::Megatron, Bee told me something troubling and I just… I need to hear from you. I need to know you’re still here, beloved.::

 willnotgogently:

 mightymegatron:

mightymegatron:

The voice is still Megatron’s but isn’t, a foreign resonance infects the sound.

::Beloved? So you have fallen prey to this inane concept of affection for this arrogant fool. Your would-be herald is gone, and I will use him to rain down destruction across the universe!::

Unicron scoffs to hear the old language. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth. Time to replace it with something more satisfying. A denial-ridden snack, perhaps.

Raising his right arm, dark energon manifests around his servo, elongating it into a wicked scythe half as long as his body. Charging forward, the warped frame of Megatron glares, slicing through the air towards the insect in his way, staff or no staff. Glowing and menacing, the blade intends to cut him in half.

“The evil before you is your lover, and he denounced all else long ago!”

“He didn’t denounce everything. He loves me, and that means he holds onto some things in his spark. Even if you worked your way inside of him by devious means, you don’t have all of him.” Rung spat out as he moved to avoid the staff.

The first strike missed him by mere inches and he was sure he was only saved by the fact that the rotting body was slowing the movements. And yet, even as he was thinking that, turning his pede to strengthen his stance, the scythe hissed through the air again and he felt the sharp heat of it parting his plating. The small orange bot stared up at the familiar face and the unfamiliar disdain in the optics looking at him, trying to catch his vents even as the dark weapon dragged down and his energon flowed down in a rush, staining the ground a sparkling blue.

The blade catches and he can feel the warmth from the Pious spark on its tip. Just shy of splitting him in twain, Unicron takes a step forward, turning the scythe and poising it at the level of Rung’s neck.

“I don’t need all of him to end this pathetic world, though I can use what I have of him to end you.”

::Megatron, Bee told me something troubling and I just… I need to hear from you. I need to know you’re still here, beloved.::

willnotgogently:

mightymegatron:

 willnotgogently:

 mightymegatron:

mightymegatron:

The voice is still Megatron’s but isn’t, a foreign resonance infects the sound.

::Beloved? So you have fallen prey to this inane concept of affection for this arrogant fool. Your would-be herald is gone, and I will use him to rain down destruction across the universe!::

So many pests. He can’t understand their connection to each other, not when there is so much war and death and deceit. He could see clearly into the Allspark and even Primus could not be trusted for all his Order. These creatures are fools to believe that they matter at all, even less that others do, or that they somehow had more value together.

“What folly,” he mused as Rung made himself known. He almost laughed at the staff in his hands; as if even a hundred mortal mechs could bring him to heel, let alone one! Unicron raises Megatron’s rusted arms, showing himself. 

“Behold your fool, felled and resurrected by his own arrogance. He begged to wield the power of the Unmaker, and when I refused him, conspired against me with Primus’ disciple. Now in death, this soulless vessel is mine, a testament to his failure of a betrayal!”

This wasn’t right. Even the smell of what should have been Megatron was off, leaving a foul taste in his mouth. He wasn’t shaking from fear but that was only because he felt so very numb. Shaking his head a little, his grip on the staff loosened as he took a step backwards. “No… This isn’t… This is a trick. You’re a liar. You’ve always played one party against the other. You took over his body and you’re just trying to foul my thoughts on him.”

“There is no trick, child of Primus. Megatron’s body is forfeit to me because he offered it! The moment my blood pulsed within him, his fate was sealed.” The corpse took a step closer, gesturing towards Rung with his beastly claws.

“As is yours, for daring to question my absolute rule.”

He wanted to meet the threat head on. He had fought Predacons, stood up to massive tanks and stared unflinching into the eyes of mecha who had held guns to his head or spark before. Yet when the ichor that dripped off the body was coming from his beloved, he could barely bring himself to move back again. Keeping his staff in front of himself, he swallowed back the thick block in his throat.

“Light of the all spark guides my path, I shall not falter. I denounce all evils that stand before me.” Rung intoned in the Primal Vernacular.

Shuddering, he sent a quick command to the bracer that he wore, readying it to port him back. His comms open to send a message to Bumblebee to warn him about this.

Unicron scoffs to hear the old language. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth. Time to replace it with something more satisfying. A denial-ridden snack, perhaps.

Raising his right arm, dark energon manifests around his servo, elongating it into a wicked scythe half as long as his body. Charging forward, the warped frame of Megatron glares, slicing through the air towards the insect in his way, staff or no staff. Glowing and menacing, the blade intends to cut him in half.

“The evil before you is your lover, and he denounced all else long ago!”

::Megatron, Bee told me something troubling and I just… I need to hear from you. I need to know you’re still here, beloved.::

 willnotgogently:

 mightymegatron:

mightymegatron:

The voice is still Megatron’s but isn’t, a foreign resonance infects the sound.

::Beloved? So you have fallen prey to this inane concept of affection for this arrogant fool. Your would-be herald is gone, and I will use him to rain down destruction across the universe!::

So many pests. He can’t understand their connection to each other, not when there is so much war and death and deceit. He could see clearly into the Allspark and even Primus could not be trusted for all his Order. These creatures are fools to believe that they matter at all, even less that others do, or that they somehow had more value together.

“What folly,” he mused as Rung made himself known. He almost laughed at the staff in his hands; as if even a hundred mortal mechs could bring him to heel, let alone one! Unicron raises Megatron’s rusted arms, showing himself. 

“Behold your fool, felled and resurrected by his own arrogance. He begged to wield the power of the Unmaker, and when I refused him, conspired against me with Primus’ disciple. Now in death, this soulless vessel is mine, a testament to his failure of a betrayal!”

This wasn’t right. Even the smell of what should have been Megatron was off, leaving a foul taste in his mouth. He wasn’t shaking from fear but that was only because he felt so very numb. Shaking his head a little, his grip on the staff loosened as he took a step backwards. “No… This isn’t… This is a trick. You’re a liar. You’ve always played one party against the other. You took over his body and you’re just trying to foul my thoughts on him.”

“There is no trick, child of Primus. Megatron’s body is forfeit to me because he offered it! The moment my blood pulsed within him, his fate was sealed.” The corpse took a step closer, gesturing towards Rung with his beastly claws.

“As is yours, for daring to question my absolute rule.”

➳

the-scrappy-stinger:

(Megatron had the walls razed.) 

(The seige had lasted weeks. The city’s inner water stores were impressive, but their energon would not hold for this long. Even now he could most likely see the soldiers fainting along their patrols, and how few there were to keep their posts. Even now, the offer lay on the king’s shoulders: a tribute for peace. Megatron would forever claim the city as his in exchange for their remaining lives.) 

(Finally, as the king’s lover lay dying on her bed, did he accept. He gathered his treasures from the hoarde and delivered them via messenger to the great conqueror. There. The best they had to offer. Riches, raw energon, armored silks and fine weapons…)

(And tied to the bundle by his neck and wrists, to seal the deal, his personal slave.)

(So read the note on the bundle.) 

(The little slave seemed particularly eager to escape from his bonds.) 

At last, Megatron’s victory was at hand. The moment the king had sent word of his surrender, he had ordered the siege’s end. It was the only intelligent decision he could ever recall Sentinel making, but with Iacon’s fall, the entire hemisphere was his. All that was left was to revel in the spoils he’d been presented with…

And one of them was alive. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Our King gives over his personal slave, for you to use as you-”

“Release him.”

“…What?”

“Unbind him! He is not my prisoner nor yours, nor will any living mech be my ‘gift!’” Kneeling before the pile, Megatron slices carefully through the chains with his sword, addressing the bound one.

“You will not be my slave, but if you would prefer to stay where you remained unowned, you are free to do so of your own accord.”

hey, you still alive?

 choochoomotherslagger:

 mightymegatron:

mightymegatron:

::Decidedly not.:: 

::I am Unicron, and that insect is no more.::

When Astrotrain arrives, Megatron’s altered frame awaits, standing before the swirling portal. He’s larger now than he used to be, a horn-like crest rising from the twisted embellishments on his helm. There is no spark here, only the sickening throb of dark energon as it pulses beneath the glowing star on his chest. He regards the triple-changer with a cold, violet glare.

“You know me, mortal.” His voice echoes in the dark tunnel, a borrowed version of Megatron’s own. “Is it power that you seek?”

The frame is freshly mutated, no obvious rust or rot – this is a new development. Dead or mentally unseated no longer than a month, maybe. A bit of guilt lifted from his shoulders.

He hardly noticed, focused on trying to keep his processors sharp despite the spark’s yearning. Forcing himself to keep his distance, pedes planted firmly where they landed on the other side of the bridge. Resisting that sickening pull. Staring the void directly in the optics. Reminding himself that this one wasn’t his. Couldn’t be. Shouldn’t be.

“Closure,” said his spark, but “I don’t know,” is what his mouth said. His EMF pulled away from its place tightly bound to his frame to add in its own confusing cocktail of opinion. Static on the outside, hurt desire guilt love betrayal on the inside.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He added in a very unconvincing croak.

Unicron considers this one. There is something strange about him, conflicted and distant, despite his fixation. He closes the distance between himself and the mortal. With how he’s mangled Megatron’s frame to suit his own desires, they are nearly the same height.

“I am, as has always been inevitable. Will you try and stop my advance? Or will you give yourself over to me, accepting your fate?” He holds out his palm, and from the center rises a shard of dark energon. “This illusion of choice is yours. You may answer, but it has already been decided.”

Unicron Hunting: Planning

verdigrisprowl:

Soundwave, Prowl, Smokescreen and Bumblebee meet up to discuss how they’re going to combat Unicron. The plan is to have Bumblebee bridge into the atmosphere to scout for any obvious signs of Unicron on the surface, and then they’ll all bridge down and split up to hunt for him and his herald: Prowl solo, Soundwave solo, and Smokescreen & Bumblebee together. Anybody who runs into him comms the rest of the group, and then try to reliquary him or, if necessary, Matrix him.

Keep reading

The Sea of Rust shudders, red dust erupting into the air. Far below, an abscess has formed in Cybertron’s crust. A cavernous geode glows from within, lined entirely with dark energon and at it’s center. Megatron, or the twisted form of what once was Megatron, holds his clenched fist out in front of him, facing the room as he concentrates. As his servo opens, it shakes with force, receding the crystals into the walls of the cavern, leaving the entire space jagged and tainted with violet.

“Fester with my rot before you meet your end.”

“How can a moment last forever? How can a story never die…”

Censere hums the rest quietly to himself as he works, tinkering with a few petals. He’s gotten behind in his work, but he still has time. He looks up from the fragile creation, out the window to where Bee rests amid the flowers, where Smokescreen watches the stars. They look so comfortable, nestled in among the warm echos of memory. The planet has been quiet for millenia, he’s grown used to being the only one filling the silence… but he’s going to miss these two when they find their way home.