::Megs- did you see that broadcast? It’s kinda amazing how wrong one bot can be, right?::

ask-smokescreen:

mightymegatron:

It takes a moment for any response to form.

::You can’t tell me that you disagree with him, Smokescreen.::

::I can’t say I completely disagree, but- but the stuff with Tyger Pax. They got it all wrong! They conveniently cut out the part about you searching for a fraggin’ solution! The fact that we had to find the covenant and that book- uh- the Necronomicon- for this! Honestly, if they’re willing to bend that kind of video clips, there’s no way that bot doesn’t have some kinda ulterior motive.::

True enough. They had doctored the recording slightly, to leave out that sentence of his order. But to retaliate on such an easily overlooked omission he felt would do more harm than good. Who would believe what had actually transpired?

::He’s made his motives very clear, I think. He believes the people of Cybertron should be allowed to govern themselves, but clearly sees himself as the face of their aspirations. If he’s allowed to run unopposed, he will have near-full support from this alone.::

Megatron stands on the bridge to watch a publicly broadcast transmission.

This was all footage of the carnage he had seen firsthand. Yellow
slime burning the pedes of mechs trying to run through it, a building being
slowly crushed by some invisible force. A lightly accented voice spoke over the images of
fleeing neutrals.

“Dropchain. Nova Minor. Vander. Just a few names of mechs
who were lost to us at Tyger Pax, despite our Lord High Protector’s vow not to
have anymore energon spilt on this ‘peaceful’ planet.” Megatron glared, hearing
the quotation marks in the narrator’s words. “Each one of them an innocent
bystander, both of this seemingly unprovoked attack, and of the war that took
millions more. Like most of us, they survived those millenia on the fringes of
the galaxy, forced out of their homes, persecuted by the Galactic Council for the
actions of our species’ extremists. Finally, they were able to return, told
that they were safe.”

The screen cut to a close-up of an outstretched hand on the
ground, vibrant orange paint fading to grey. “Of course, no one mech can save
every life. To put each death on an entire planet squarely on one mech’s
shoulders would be unreasonable, but should someone who has been the cause of
it at all be protecting us? Megatron has given himself absolute power,
something that is called for during a war, when there is a perceived enemy to
rally against. But in times of peace, those agendas come to light in more
sinister ways.”

“::Lord Megatron, you must return! There’s an S.O.S. signal
from neutral colony 7B, they… they’re not making sense! They’re under attack, but no
one can say from what!::”

That voice. Megatron knew what this was before his own voice
played in response.

“::Give me a bridge to Metroplex.::” The present-day Megatron growled.

“::But sir, it’s at Tyger-::”

“::Metroplex, NOW!!!::” The mech from before continued, over
surveillance footage of the old dormitory, decaying over time.

“Our Lord High Protector knew of the attack on Tyger Pax and delayed
his intervention until people had been killed. There is even evidence to support
that he knew of this brewing catastrophe long before it occurred.” The
time-lapse froze on a silver flier heading towards the building, its blurred
lines the general telltale shape of Megatron’s alt-mode.

“Despite his visit to this site, the Nemesis released a quarantine
on the basis of ‘weakened structural integrity.’ Megatron’s priorities clearly do
not include honesty, or the safety of his unaligned citizens. We should have a
leader who even if they cannot save us all, at least values each of us as
equally as he claims. Do not sit back and allow this to be forgotten. The time for
a military dictator is over. If Cybertron is truly free, then we must prove it
so, by choosing someone to lead who knows how to be something other than a
warlord. The conflict between Autobots and Decepticons is at its end, both sides
reduced to ashes in the process, leaving those of us who chose not to fight to
clean up what they left behind.” A navy speedster came on screen, his stance
firm, yellow visor a solid line of determination. In the last few months, Megatron had come to recognize him as Livewire, head of one of the neutral colonies.

“Lord Megatron, I say this to you. If there is any part of you who
remembers your promises before all of this began, if you truly believe every
mech is equal, step down, and give us a choice to live our lives as we see fit,
to be led by someone we have elected to lead. If you refuse, then you are no
different than the council you slaughtered in freedom’s name.” 

The video ended,
leaving Megatron glaring at the screen. That footage was on a secure channel.
That recording only could have been revealed by someone who had access to the
Nemesis’ computer. There was dissension, even on his own ship. Fury boiled just
below the surface of his plating. Every instinct told him to find this mech and
rip him apart, but that would only prove his Pit-damned point.

The video had
gone live an hour ago. He had to respond.

 ask-smokescreen:

mightymegatron:

He was put to rest using the same power that kept him dormant for eons before that. It took an interplanetary event to wake him the first time.

I did see your base. *Before he destroyed it.* I could sense Unicron’s inner workings, and used your ground bridge to get us inside unharmed. Neither of us could have defeated him alone, that much I will admit.

Wait, that’s what woke him up? I thought he just woke up out of nowhere- okay, that’s less worrying.

It was a pretty cozy base, if you ask me. A little small for someone like you, probably. But man, you could sense his inner workings and everything? Is it always like that when you’re on Earth?

I would’ve loved to see you and Optimus working side-by-side- did you two fight off anything together? Like, did Unicron animate something really tough?

…Not always. Now that Unicron has been returned to slumber, the feeling is much quieter. Whispers, rather than visions.

Hmm… I don’t have images of the rock golems, but they were easily the size of mountains. I do have one external image you may enjoy more than I do. *He hand Smokescreen a datafile with this single image inside.*

the-scrappy-stinger:

mightymegatron:

Megatron leans back with an easy grin as soon as the others appear, the picture of congeniality. It really is a relief to see Bee, and he takes a moment to extend his field around the minibot. Finding him content, the warlord’s posture further relaxes. His friend deserved this happiness and more.

“Oh absolutely.” A smirk was leveled at Sari again, and once Ratchet was finished pouring, he raised his glass, toasting it in her direction. “Enlightening.” He takes a deep swig from the cube, surprised at the sweetness inside. The next drink he takes is smaller.

“I take it everything was alright in the kitchen? …The utensils were particularly uplifting?”

(Bulkhead sincerely laughs at that, his cheeks warm and rosy. Optimus smirks.) 

“We did a dance of mirth with the spatulas.” 

(Bulkhead laughs again, as does Bumblebee with a little answering ping in his own EM field. Sari quietly lands on the back of a cushion and sits quietly.)

(They talk a while. Ratchet mostly leads, with tales about the old Cybertron and lean times during the war. Optimus listens and eats with an appetite that rivals Bulkhead’s, and Bee sticks close to Megatron’s field. They talk until their legs are roasting under the table and it’s late into the night. The younger bots are starting to nod off in their spots, Bee included.) 

“Eeeh, maybe it’s time you went home.” (Ratchet tips his helm in a mild salute.) “This is something I never thought I’d say, but… it’s been a pleasure talking to you, Megatron.” 

(Bee’s head shoots up.) I’m not asleep!

The entire evening hadn’t gone as he’d expected. Sitting and soaking in the culture and company of Autobots, and enjoying himself while doing so. He regaled them with tales from his side of the battlefield, of course leaving out the most unsavory details. He didn’t shy from sharing how his Cybertron had been left to ruin from their war, but none but the techno-organic need know of his affliction, and it seemed in poor taste to mention the nature of his victory in present company.

They all really were so young. Apart from Ratchet, none of them had experienced the same atmosphere he’d thrived in for the last few million years. Even so, they were attentive and eager to learn, especially the tiny Optimus. Eventually, Bumblebee’s helm clinking against his arm makes him realize just how long he’s been there. 

“Ah, you may be right…” He uses his servo to keep Bee propped up, rubbing his back before standing. “The pleasure was mine, Ratchet. All of you, despite our different alliances and build specs. We would do well to remember our similarities.” His optics rested on the little Allspark vessel, the prickle in his lines intensifying as he did so. “Sari, wasn’t it? Would you see me out?”

The door closed, leaving the two of them alone once again. With the source of the energy so close, with nothing else left to focus on, the dark energon in his frame blossomed. He watched her with deep violet optics. An impulse told him he wanted to crush her into the ground. It would be so easy. Instead, he waited until she had flown up to his eye-level.

“If you still have any notions of striking me down to spare your friends, keep one thing in mind. So long as there is a spark in my chassis, I have the power of choice, of will. I am no monster hellbent on causing destruction. But if anything happens to me, that very thing will be unleashed.” He lays a servo over his chest, glaring. “Unicron, the Chaos-Bringer, will overtake me upon my death. I hold him at bay for the sake of those I hold dear. Come for me now, and I will destroy you to prevent his return.” The warlord’s optics softened in melancholy, as a groundbridge whirled to life behind him.

“But should I fail… It’s good to know that you will be able to protect them. Take care, Reliquary.”

 the-scrappy-stinger:

(A rapid-fire debate wages in Sari’s mind. The Allspark is chewing her out on one side for provoking him while the other is saying she’s justified in rooting out an enemy. It wants her to attack, to cleanse him, to talk, and to run all at once, every universe chiming in with its opinion on the tete-a-tete.) 

(Sari’s voice is barely a “quiet! shut up I can’t think!” in the maelstrom. She shakes herself back into focus, and Megatron is still there, glaring.) “I-I mean it! I-I can-”

(It’s then that Ratchet comes back with a tray of snacks, and the Autobots file back in one by one. Bee sandwiches himself between Optimus and Megatron with a tired grin.) 

“Sorry about that. Took a little longer than expected.” (Ratchet poured Megatron a hot drink, entirely too happy about whatever went down out of sight.) “You and Sari have a good talk?” 

Megatron leans back with an easy grin as soon as the others appear, the picture of congeniality. It really is a relief to see Bee, and he takes a moment to extend his field around the minibot. Finding him content, the warlord’s posture further relaxes. His friend deserved this happiness and more.

“Oh absolutely.” A smirk was leveled at Sari again, and once Ratchet was finished pouring, he raised his glass, toasting it in her direction. “Enlightening.” He takes a deep swig from the cube, surprised at the sweetness inside. The next drink he takes is smaller.

“I take it everything was alright in the kitchen? …The utensils were particularly uplifting?”

the-scrappy-stinger:

mightymegatron:

A voice far within the recesses of his spark urged him to lunge across the table, to strike at Sari. He pointedly ignored it, though the color of his optics began to shift a bit. He preoccupies himself with the idea of 11 Starscreams running around. He could hardly imagine the noise. The strutting.

Taking the files carefully, Megatron scoffs. “Ah, that glare on him is a universal constant…” This universe’s Decepticons seemed to be built a bit larger than its Autobots. For a moment, he entertained the notion of a Skyquake-sized Starscream… No, any size advantage would still be outweighed by his cocksure personality, as evidenced by the fact that a minibot-sized Optimus and his proportionate team had managed to take him down regardless.

He glances after Ratchet for a moment, but is unconcerned. Bumblebee would contact him if anything was awry. Instead, he searches through a produced datapad of his own for any reference of Starscream, and finds an image of his Second barking orders from the flight deck. In the background, he looks on, arms folded behind his back. “Here. You can tell how many times he’s had to repeat himself by how high his wings are hiked…”

“Dinner?”

“Ratchet learned a little of how to cook from Bumblebee. Now he won’t stop!” (Optimus explains.) “Energon is very carefully rationed back home, and Ratchet is old enough to have lived through the Great War, when it was even worse. Give him energon to play with and he- um-”

(Optimus looks up. Ratchet is signalling him from the kitchen to come, and quickly, with him. Inside, out of Megatron’s view, Bumblebee’s crying and Bulkhead has him in a death grip trying to make him feel better. The Prime stands.) “Hold on, I think Ratchet needs my help with something. Sari, Megatron, wait here?” 

(He leaves the room, and from the perimeter where Sari feels safe, she glares at the warlord. Her faceplate and optical covers snap into place, covering up her most human attribute and making her look just that more Cybertronian, enough to take seriously. In the back of her mind, the Allspark wages a war between telling her to run and telling her to talk, but whatever she was going to do, not to attack.) 

(She finds a compromise in bluffing.)

“Listen, buster. I don’t know if you know this, but I’m Cybertron’s Chosen One.” (She puffs out her chest and shoulders in her best Optimus.) “I’m Allspark powered, combat ready, and if you’re trying to pull anything on this planet, I’m onto you.” 

For a moment he almost follows, but Bee told him that he’d contact him if necessary. These mechs are near-strangers to him, but they’d known Bumblebee for far longer than he had. He had to trust them… to a degree. 

Looking back at Sari, Megatron rolled his optics so see her battle mask. Oh he really shouldn’t play this game… but he can’t resist. He lets the red filters slide over his optics, leaning over the table towards her.

“Heheh. You think that you’d be able to stop me if I chose to become hostile? Young one, I could snap every one of you in half. Some of you, I already have, Matrix and all.” He doesn’t move, but with a quiet snick the filters return to their docks, revealing his natural blue.

“But it is, however, a choice. Bumblebee. is my companion and I value his well-being, which extends to each of you… for now. If I were you, I wouldn’t tempt a former enemy to change his mind.”

( Bee’s gift is left on his desk with a little note. He’s crocheted a finger-sized dunkleosteus doll with an open mouth, which is where he rolled and stuffed the note.) “He took a while to make! Merry Christmas.”

There’s no name, but there’s also no question as to who gave this to him. Megatron holds the little plush up to the tank with a grin, marveling at its accuracy. Bruce shows some interest in the toy, and Sever rushes past him to gnash his teeth at it through the glass. Oxide, as always, lurks behind them both.

::Thank you, Bumblebee. The fish greatly appreciate your rendition of them.::

Hearing from Bee about the large fish tank, Rung’s gift to Megatron is some large crystals to decorate the bottom as well as some music recordings from his own universes Protohex. “I thought perhaps we could dance, if you like. Or just sit quietly to listen to it together.”

The crystals are something he hadn’t thought of, and he subspaces them gratefully for later. 

The dancing is also something he hadn’t thought of. “Hm… I haven’t danced since long before the war. So long as no one will be recording, I could be persuaded to make another attempt.”

Megatron returned to the bar after hours, a datapad in hand. He leaned down, free hand caressing the side of Rung’s helm. His kiss was deep and lingering, field swelling with warmth as if an ember brought to life by Rung’s breath. “I’ve brought a gift for you. A compilation of several recordings of my days in the ring- those I could find with the highest audio quality.”

willnotgogently:

Rung pushed into the kiss happily, squeezing Megatron’s arm to try to hold him closer. Accepting the datapad and the explanation of what was on it, he laughed softly and kissed Megatron again. His field swelled with heat and he nipped at the others lower lip, urging him to follow him to his room. “Can I show my appreciation?”

With a half-lidded gaze, Megatron pings his conjunx, waiting for a return ping before following. Despite their difference in size, Rung is easily able to guide him by the arm to whatever room he sees fit. It didn’t matter, so long as Rung wanted him there. “Wholly unnecessary…” He grinned, cooling fans spinning. “But it is yours to give. Who am I to deny you?”