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“Ah, well,” he tapped his digits together as he thought over the questions. “Technically–”

And then came the last remark. His optics cycled wide, immediately drawn up to the marred face that had asked and staring back at him while anxiety prickled through his field, and with care, he replied: “No, I haven’t.”

Sabri’s attitude shifted from unbridled familiarity to a pensive, yet calm, formality as he continued, “I am here to speak with you, M’Lord, called by Anonymous and their wiles to bring hope. Guidance in troubled times, as is the calling of all Followers. For the exact lesson or premonition of your future… I can only speculate based on what grace you’ve shown me in my life.”

With a sweeping gesture, he motioned beyond where they stood. “Could… We sit and talk, maybe?”

The warlord’s confusion didn’t fade, rather shifted into curiosity as he regarded Rigel’s future. A holy mech, called here to guide him… yet neither of them knew exactly for what purpose. Megatron had a feeling he could guess, but he was a master at prolonging the inevitable. Just look at how long the war had lasted.

His gaze followed the golden one’s gestures, and only then he notice the gathering of very confused vehicons. Perhaps this wasn’t the best place. ::Clear the primary flight deck,:: he commed. ::I will be using it for a private meeting. Those out on reconnaissance are to land on the auxiliary decks when they return.:: There was no protest, and Megatron parted the gathered crowd just by walking in their general direction. He motioned for Rigel to follow.

Silence prevailed as they walked, while Megatron chose his words carefully, only glancing at his guest every so often to ensure he was still there. He was glad that he wasn’t just an illusion, but would not be disappointed to look down and find him gone, either. The hanger doors slid shut behind them as they walked onto the empty deck.

“You may sit if you wish. I may join you, once I have learned more about you.” He’d known Rigel as a child, but so much time must have passed for this mech that there was no telling of his true intentions, not yet. That guard was not coming down. He fixed Rigel with an analytical glare.

“You “guide” others, do you? To what end?”

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He stood patiently when the answer was given, unsure what to do with himself otherwise. The cloak was gathered from his frame and folded neatly so as not to damage the fabric, and that was when the Warlord’s voice came to him, and then he saw the behemoth of a mech that stood imposingly only a few mechanometers away. Despite this, and the aura of uncertainty that clouded them, Sabri offered a smile.

“I try to keep things interesting,” He commented, placing his stave at his back and addressing the Decepticon with open hands. “And as far as lessons are concerned… I was hoping you’d tell me. Knowledge I can spare. This is a troubled time in our lives – I know.”

His smile faltered when he ran out of more to add, instead daring to let his optics wander over the scarred frame and terrible, eerie field that emanated from the Warlord’s spark.

…This was new.

“You mean to say that you haven’t been sent here to speak to me? Convince me of some truth I’ve rejected, like all the others? Reveal some grave consequence of a future action I am to avoid?” 

The offered servos get a stare. He can’t get a read on this Rigel, why he’s so open and comfortable. The wandering optics are more familiar. 

“Tell me one thing, Rigel. Have you taken the Matrix?”

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He’d made it to the Space Bridge and entered the coordinates that had been given to him the night before with little fuss; Only minor bending of wills and realities used with extreme care. The mech on the other side of his portal needed him, and he was determined to get to the heart of his bizarre mission sooner rather than later.

The golden clad bot strode through the bridge with conviction, peering through the swirling light cautiously to see if the coast was clear before hurriedly closing the portal. It was like stepping out of one ship and into another… Which is exactly what had happened. Only rather than above a planet, this one was stationary and at a port, and was far less inhabited than the previous.

Drawing in a breath, he opened the communications line once more:

:: @mightymegatron, if you have a moment, sir. ::

::Lord Megatron, an unregistered space bridge-::

::Pay it no mind. This is a guest of mine, and the first to fire upon him will answer to me.:: Megatron allowed his plating to untense a bit, taking comfort in the fact that others could detect and see his visitor. This may be only be a trick of the multiverse, after all. He switched channels, responding to Rigel.

::A moment, perhaps.::

Now certain that this mech was not a product of his own mind, the warlord’s confidence bled into his stride as he went to see what lay in store… and was greeted by an enshrouded mech covered in ancient glyphs. Megatron towered over the future mech, reminded purely of the little yellow mechling and for the first time, neither of his creators.

“… Heh. You are not what I expected, at least. Tell me, what knowledge do you plan to impart upon me, Rigel? What lesson have you been sent here to teach me?”