Soundwave has already visited Smokescreen tonight. There’s one, however, who may well be the reason the shields were dropped in the first place, and Soundwave has a borrowed mission to complete. The warmonger must be made to stay on his planet, afraid to expand.

The walking phobia shield joins his holomatter double in roaming the ship, if from the opposite end, scraping at what he can sense of Megatron’s mind, whispering to it, taunting it.

Megatron is old and weak now. His frame crumbles. His spark flickers. The war has taken its toll on him, draining the life from him, just as he has drained the life from all who have ever surrounded him. From the planet itself. From his so-called friends, and those he wanted to rule. From his beloved. Hasn’t he? And it’s so tiring.

His statues will weather. His name will fall off other mech’s lips, forgotten. His works will crumble and be built over, replaced with newer, shinier things by a mech he’s never met. These things are not important. The people are, and one by one, he has failed them. One by one, he has broken them all, and still the fires of hatred burn in his spark.

Soon, he will be alone. The few who are left will find out what he did and leave him, unable to trust him. So many have already abandoned him. So many cannot be called back. Much longer and he won’t even have the chance to try anymore. He’ll fade from silver to grey with no one there to remember him as he was, or might have been, or wanted to be. All the time he might have spent reconciling and creating will have been wasted on these petty grudges and furies, these pointless, endless battles.

It’s too little, and for both of them, much too late. Isn’t it, Megatron? Isn’t it?

These are no foreign thoughts to him. In the years since Cybertron’s fall, there have always been those who, rightfully so, have blamed him for everything. When he was laying broken in an Earthen stream, he had already felt forgotten, a relic of a bygone era, having failed from the very beginning.

These thoughts are no longer his own. He may not be immortal, perhaps his age and the constant beat of battles against his plating have worn him down, but he is still here, and he is not finished. So long as he functions, Megatron will fight to leave behind a world better than the one he was forged into. To have these thoughts crop up so suddenly and clash so harshly with his own mindset curls his intake into a snarl. The other Soundwave had infiltrated his ship. And here he thought things had been going so well.

Leaving his room, Megatron stalks the halls, on the hunt for that damned alternate. He projects the thorniest thoughts he can, about how lucky he has it all from the decision to run away.

Turning a corner, he nearly crashes into a familiar lanky frame and steps back to unsheath his sword, only to find his own Soundwave, unmasked and glaring daggers up at him. His irritation vanishes, replaced by immense relief and confusion to see his conjunx up and walking. He reaches out with his hand and with his field, but there is nothing to greet either as Soundwave backs away. He hasn’t looked this angry in eons, but his typical telepathy is completely absent. Shocking Megatron further, he begins to speak, in the beautiful singsong voice he’s missed so much.

“How dare you!” The backs of thin digits crack across the warlord’s face, the tips leaving faint scratches. Megatron can’t comprehend what’s happening, only able to stare in horror.

“He’s gone!” Soundwave continued, wailing in fury. “Megatron: took Unicron away, I can not feel him… You can not replace him. You are no god!!” He went to strike Megatron again but he caught the slim arm this time, finally able to gather his words despite the sinking feeling in his spark.

“Stop this! If he were not put to an end, not only me but our entire-”

“I WOULD RATHER HAVE HIM! I don’t want to be yours!!”

The cry echoed through the halls, leaving only silence in its wake. Megatron’s mind raced. All of this was wrong, and he could do nothing… but also felt nothing.

Soundwave’s fury was never silent. He should be able to hear and feel the rage and despair rolling off of him in telepathic waves, but his mind was unplauged. All of this was wrong…

“This… isn’t you, is it?” It was more of a statement than a question. Someone was playing at this… It had to be. Even so, Megatron still had to fight to maintain his composure. He couldn’t bare this if it were true, surely it couldn’t be. Drawing his sword, Megatron began to advance, not quite sure if he was making a mistake. “You aren’t real. You wouldn’t… He wouldn’t do this…”

Right?

m!a

well, even if you don’t, have a mawile. they can chew through steel beems and can be a bit of a trickster–called the deceiver pokémon–but they’re loyal to tough customers. like you!

if you don’t like them, they’ll disappear after three (3) days.

~~(this is ofc subject to mun’s wants over anon’s.)~~

There is a small yellow creature growling and… “Mawile”ing at me.

(Bee grins and plays this over his radio in lieu of talking.)

*He looks confused until the words start, at which point he glares*

(Boss Megatron will hear your offer.)

((OMG BEE THIS IS SO SO COOL!! YEEEEEE))

Three Days Grace – Riot

I heard this and immediately thought of you. :>

…Acceptable, when considering my younger years.

ya mean I missed all my fave muns? frag? how could you not say hello to this lil JAZZY and Runn mun? lol, see ya next year

((Next year! Lil Jazz is so cuuute))

(The broadcast finds its way to a video screen. Megatron is given a direct feed to the head of the fleet.)

SENTIENT LIFE. This petulant resistance is unnecessary. You address us as the enemy, but these conclusions are flawed. We are your salvation. We bring peace…

A peace built upon OUR social framework imposed upon your planet, a New World Order in which your prosperity and security are assured by the Ur-Quan.

In our 20,000 years, we have dominated thousands of species, yes, but we have saved hundreds from extinction. You imagine the threat of unknown invaders, or alien pestilence born on the solar wind. We have seen these. But you do not acknowledge your own worst enemies… yourselves.

We have found dead worlds without number, planets ravaged by atomic fire or gaian collapse. These planets were not rendered sterile by outside forces. They bear sad testiment to the effects of unrestrained instinct and emotion. Or simple ignorance.

We will prevent such mistakes.

Today, we are the enemy. In time, this will change. Soon, you will come to understand the boon of slavery we force upon you.

Then, you will revere or even love us for this great gift.

The squirming organic mass on his screen was a vile affront to nature. With its appearance and its promises of salvation through slavery, the similarity to another old enemy made his tanks turn. Even so, as the creature continued, Megatron’s sneer only widened. Behind him, the crew was growing more nervous with every word. The thing was organic, but it represented a life most of them had fled from, to fight against. Megatron held out a hand to them, determination set in every line of his warrior’s frame. He was their Lord, and he would take care of this threat as he had every other.

“Perhaps you do not understand. Perhaps you have not heard the name Megatron. You claim to have saved species from extinction, I have been the cause for that extinction, to further our goals. You have been crusading for thousands of years, our war for freedom raged for millions. I alone am older than a thousand of your organic generations!

This world that we stand upon was indeed ravaged by our war and yet here we stand, here I stand, victorious! I am slave to no one, elite, organic, or god!” With a flourish, Megatron brandished his sword, pointing it at the screen. “So you will leave my planet, or you will find yourselves added to that long list of those exterminated creatures who ever thought it wise to challenge us!”

This song sounds likes something you’d kind of like! I think it’s about a community of hard laborers who come together when their town’s about to be taken over!

I could do without the confusing dancing. But a gruff man with a gravelly voice rallying his fellows in a bar to sing and face their troubles- I approve.

I have found a flower that will strike fear into the heart of your enemies.
The best part is that you don’t have to worry about taking care of it because it’s already dead.

Happy Victory Day

-Love, Steve

Has it really been…

Your gift is appreciated, Steve. Do not forget your own contribution to this momentous event.

My Lord Megatron, would you like to come to the house? It might help with the sudden vertigo, more of my place is adjusted for mini-height.

Perhaps a visit is in order, then. Waiting out the rest of this time there is likely for the best, considering the reactions of my crew are increasing in strangeness.