Megatron stood in the corner of a dark room, unsure of how he’d gotten there. He looked around, struck with a vague sense of familiarity; he’d been before, surely, but the edges of his vision were blurred. Had he been drugged perhaps? Reaching for the light, the sound of voices approaching made him freeze. “No…”

The door opened, his own frame silhouetted in the light of the hallway. A much younger Megatron stormed inside, throwing himself at the nearest table to cling to the edge with his optics squeezed shut. Orion Pax was not far behind him, but wisely kept his distance. “I don’t want to see this,” the present Megatron admitted to whatever had brought him here.

‘Megatronus, the threat of force-’

‘My name is Megatron,’ snarled his younger self, ‘and that is the only thing that will make the high castes listen to us! You’re playing into their hand, Orion! If you think compromise and politics-’

‘You have to see things from their side as well! They will work with us if we stand together and work for change, but a revolution will only be met with more violence. They will not work with-’

‘With me. That is what you’re thinking, isn’t it?’

‘Megatron, please…’ Orion backed away as the gladiator threw a chair against the opposite wall, but his expression was stern, measured, and all to familiar. The silent observer found he couldn’t turn away. “Stop this…”

‘I am the symbol of all that’s about to come crashing down around them, I will not compromise to spare them the pain of what they’ve done to us for millenia! I will not yield simply because the reality of the situation is ugly to them! They will be held accountable!’ His old self bellowed and slammed his fist down onto the table, leaving a sizable dent.

‘You can’t be serious… there are innocent mechs who will empathize if we show them the truth. What you’re calling for is war! We cannot-!’

‘We?! You made your true alliance all too clear today, when you stole my audience with the council, when you made them disregard us as a threat to their standing! I will not be denied!’ Megatron’s younger self drew his blade, a crazed anger flooding his wide optics. Only now did Orion seem to realize he was trapped in a room with a mech who had killed so many others. He took another step back, this time out of fear.

“No more!!” The old warlord cried out but no one could hear him, the ancient scene playing out as it had so many times in his disturbed dreams.

‘Don’t… Brother, please…’ The ghost of Megatron’s past swung back and drove his blade deep into the wall beside Orion’s helm. 

‘Leave me. If you will not stand by my side, then GET OUT!! I WILL HAVE MY REVOLUTION WITH OR WITHOUT YOU!’ Orion’s optics were wide with hurt. Neither of them moved while Megatron’s vision began to fill with static, his lines pumping liquid lead. Everything burned, he couldn’t move, couldn’t hear, his vents clicked uselessly as his core temperature climbed. When they were little more than silhouettes, the smaller mech reached up to him, said something unintelligible, and left. 

When Megatron awoke, he tried to get off the berth, but doubled over in pain and clattered onto the floor. He grimaced and thrashed, sucking in as much cooling air as he could, core still much too hot from the unnatural writhing of his spark. Rex whined from his place on the floor, hesitant to approach until his master finally began to still, exhausted and finally at an easily regulated temperature. 

His helm fell back against the floor with a light ‘tnk’, optics shutting out the light as if they could shut out the overplayed memory files.

“No more…”