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Chapter Text

“It’s not too late, Megatron!” Optimus Prime roared from behind his battlemask, deflecting blow after blow from the warlord’s flail with his ax. Battle raged all around them as Autobots and Decepticons clashed in showers of sparks and spraying energon. With a deft movement, the Prime dodged instead and caught the chain of the flail around the axhead, forcibly yanking Megatron in close and catching the punch aimed at his face. “Stop this madness! Our people are dying! Together, we can save Cybertron and turn it into something better! Please- Friend-”

“I am not your friend,” Megatron snarled, throwing the Prime over his shoulder and slamming him to the ground, untangling his flail in the process. “And you threw away all chances of peace LONG AGO!”

They were old lines from old scripts, a song and dance they’d been performing for millions of years.

With a battlecry, Megatron brought his flail down across the Prime’s windshields, shattering one before swinging again, but the Prime kicked the warlord’s legs out from under him and rolled, pinning him beneath him and bringing his axblade to his throat. Megatron retracted his flail back into a hand and caught the handle, jamming the barrel of his fusion cannon against the Prime’s chassis, in line with his spark chamber, and fired with a snarl; the Prime rolled out of the way of the blast, allowing Megatron to roll on top of him instead, straddling him and beginning to beat the slag out of him, tapping deep into his dying well of hatred to power each blow. 

The Prime tried to block and deflect the punches from beneath him before lurching upwards and headbutting him in the nose, shorting out his vision for a second and stunning him, which was long enough for Prime to grab his ax again and slam the blade into Megatron’s side, and as Megatron screamed and jerked back, the Prime kicked him off, scrambling back to his pedes before leveling his ax at him in warning. 

“This. Is. Madness,” Prime growled. “You would see us extinct?!”

“I will see every Autobot extinct,” Megatron shot back, nursing his bleeding side as he pushed himself up to one knee. “Unless you surrender unconditionally!”

“I cannot do that,” Prime said gravely. 

“Then die!”

Megatron launched himself at the other mech, who gracefully stepped out of the way and readied his ax defensively, so Megatron pivoted on his pede and fired his cannon only for the blast to be deflected by the ax.

A sudden cry started up around their surrounding troops, and figures ran past them yelling, “It’s gonna blow!”

Megatron’s optics widened-

The energon mine they were fighting over exploded in a great pink mushroom cloud, and the shockwave rushed out to slam into them, knocking them over with a deafening roar.

Before the air even settled, Megatron bellowed, “What have you done?!”  

Prime pushed himself up to his hands and knees and glared. “We cannot allow you to succeed in your plans, Megatron.”

With an animalistic snarl, Megatron pounced upon him and rolled with him down the hill, the both of them scratching and kicking and, in Megatron’s case, biting.

:Megatron,: came a comm from Soundwave. :Decepticons overrun. Objective lost. Heavy casualties. Retreat?:

He and Prime finally came to a stop with Prime on top, pinning his wrists to the ground. Opening his battlemask to show his face and staring down at him with pleading, bright blue optics, Prime bellowed, “It doesn’t have to be like this! This sacrifice pains me as much as it does you! I’ve never wanted to fight you, can’t you see that?! I’ve only ever wanted to fight with you!”

“Then join me, coward!”

“Not while you threaten Earth and its inhabitants!”

“Its inhabitants are warmongering barbarians with no need for energon! Our people are starving en masse, and you worry for alien comfort?!”

“You once claimed that self-determination was the right of all sentient beings! Have you strayed so far from your ideals?!”

Digging his heels into the earth, Megatron bucked, tossing the bulk of Prime’s body into the air and allowing himself to twist out of the pin. His servos were immediately around that traitorous throat. Prime’s optics widened as he clawed at Megatron’s wrists, and his mask snapped shut again.

After a minute, his optics began to flicker, and Prime’s desperate clawing turned into pleading pushes against his arms.

“OPTIMUS!”

The yellow and black scout tackled him off of his leader only for Megatron to put him in a chokehold, jamming his cannon into the small of his back; Bumblebee wriggled away from the barrel just in time for it to fire, and the Prime rolled into his legs, throwing off his balance enough to pitch him forward and land on the scout. Suddenly Prime’s arm was around his neck, hauling him off the young mech and enduring the harsh elbows to the chassis from the warlord. When something buckled, Prime kicked him away and limped off to stand between him and the winded scout, arms splayed protectively.

All at once, the fight left his frame, gone as if stolen by a chill wind. He staggered to his pedes and leveled his cannon at them both. :Sound the retreat and have the Seekers cover our escape,: he ordered Soundwave, then yelled to his surrounding soldiers, “Fall back! The fight is lost!”

Before Prime could try anything, he leapt up into the air and transformed into his Cybertronian jet alt-mode, blasting off back in the direction of their nearest Decepticon base, looking down at his soldiers fleeing the battle.

:Lord Megatron,: came a comm from Knock Out, :what about the wounded?:

:Leave the dead where they fall,: Megatron commed back, cold.

There was a long pause. Then:

:Understood.:

–

Ever since the Nemesis was destroyed, the Decepticon base was a hastily built underground complex reinforced against bombing with anti-aircraft guns mounted above.

Megatron stalked through its dimly lit, purple-tinted halls, a servo firmly clutched to his bleeding side to stem the flow of energon, refusing to limp or even hunch. With each soldier he passed, they ducked their helms and pressed themselves against the wall to allow him clear passage. Soon enough, he reached his destination.

Entering the medbay, he quickly cased the room and paused when he saw Soundwave and the mini-cassettes in a deep, hushed discussion with Knock Out. Seeing the warlord enter, Breakdown — never far from the Chief Medical Officer’s side — snapped to attention, and the harsh movement immediately caught the attention of the others who instantly fell silent.

Megatron narrowed his optics. “Is there a problem?”

Frenzy instantly spoke up with, “Rumble’s missing!” before a warding servo from Soundwave silenced her.

Megatron ignored the young one’s outburst and turned to Knock Out. “Where are the mesh patches? I have a nicked fuel line.”

Knock Out reset his vocal emitter and said, “Here, my liege, let me tend to you-”

“I do not require your pity,” Megatron growled. “I shall mend this on my own. Besides, your attention is clearly elsewhere. Now: the mesh patches, and a welder.”

Knock Out frowned. “The last remaining mesh patches are in the third drawer, and as for a welder? Here.”

Knock Out held out the welder, and Megatron took it before moving away to fetch a mesh patch. Opening the drawer, he frowned at the sight of only three packages meeting his optic. “When was the last time you took inventory?”

“Yesterday, Lord Megatron.”

“And you failed to notify me of critically low medical supplies because?”

Breakdown quickly spoke up and said, “S’my fault, boss. I forgot to file the report.”

Megatron leveled the young mech with a dark glare, and only turned his ire away when Breakdown made himself as small as possible without transforming. “Ensure it does not happen again.”

With that, he moved to leave.

“But Rumble!” Frenzy squawked, standing up on the exam table and climbing over Soundwave’s restraining hand, Laserbeak and Ravage also becoming restless. “We need to launch a search and rescue party, he could still be alive-!”

Megatron stopped in the doorway and snapped, “No one is to venture back to that mine. That territory is lost, and if Rumble was in the blast, so is he. We do not have resources to waste on the dead. We do not have time to grieve. Am I understood?”

Without waiting for an answer, he left.

–

The solvent of the private washrack in his quarters was warm. It was the only warm solvent accessible in their base.

Megatron stood under it and stared into nothing for a long while, letting it wash the dirt and soot and dried energon from him before he shifted his damaged plating back and applied the mesh patch to the punctured fuel line. Returning his armor, he continued to scrub numbly at his seams before finally there was no part of him left that had not been scrubbed to the point of scratching off the paint.

Turning the showerhead off, Megatron stepped under the dryer and let the air blast across him, wicking away the droplets that clung to his frame. When it was finally done, he moved to leave the washrack only to pause in front of the mirror.

The metal beneath his optics was deeply discolored, its hue darkened and faded, and his optics themselves shined noticeably dimmer. Scars and weathered lines marred his face. He looked horrible.

A swift punch dispelled the image, and he left as the shattered glass fell to the floor.

Sitting down on his berth, he picked the glass shards out of his knuckles and grabbed the welder. Rather than take to sealing his wound, he found himself digging his fingers into the cut and clawing at the pain-receptors until he let out a choked groan of agony and dropped the welder.

Finally, he felt something.

Pulling his servo out of the wound, he stared down at it where it tremored wildly, the fingers twitching and contracting against his will. Slowly, he closed it into a quivering fist.

:Soundwave,: he commed. :I need your assistance in my quarters.:

Within minutes, the mech arrived at his door and let himself in, easily bypassing the lock. Once within view of the warlord, his Communications Specialist and oldest friend stopped. “Megatron,” he greeted, his usually dark monotone soft instead.

Megatron gestured at the welder between his pedes. “Weld me up.”

Without question, Soundwave stepped closer and knelt between his legs, gently picking up the welder. Megatron leaned back on his servos to better bare his torso and spread his legs further. Soundwave steadied one large servo on either side of the laceration and then patiently set himself to the task of welding, his visor inscrutable as always.

When it was finished, Soundwave caressed a servo over the scarred metal and leaned back, setting the welder aside. Megatron followed him, leaning forward until their helms were brushing. Soundwave remained stock still as Megatron lifted his chin with a finger.

“About Rumble…” Megatron murmured. “Have you been able to locate him?”

Had Megatron not been touching the mech, he would have missed the single shiver that rolled through his frame. “Rumble: lifesigns… deceased,” Soundwave answered softly. “Signal… lost.”

Megatron cupped the back of Soundwave’s helm, pressing it to his, coaxing Soundwave to unleash a carrier’s grief into his EM field and wash it over him. Soundwave’s servos found his inner thighs, a silent question, a plea, and so Megatron pulled the other mech into berth with him.

–

Megatron and all his officers assembled in the war room and stood around the table in various states of weariness.

“Status report, all of you,” Megatron ordered.

Knock Out reset his vocalizer and began, “There’s no delicate way to put this, my liege, but after the loss of that mine, our energon reserves are… mm… insufficient to sustain both our future projects and our remaining troops. We may have suffered losses in that last battle, but unless we siphon from the science branch-”

“Illogical,” Shockwave immediately interjected. “Troops are expendable. Maintaining our efforts on powering the space bridge and rebuilding Vector Sigma must take priority. Both require great amounts of fuel to power. We must sacrifice the few for the greater good of the many.”

Starscream leaned across the table and sneered, “And how exactly are we going to get the AllSpark from Autobot clutches without troops?!”

Shockwave swiveled his head to the Seeker, unimpressed. “The AllSpark is worthless without a habitable world for it to fertilize. Cyberforming Cybertron first is the logical choice. Barring that, we cyberform Earth.”

Knock Out scoffed. “And after all we sacrifice to make Cybertron habitable again, we, what, let the Autobots ride in on a chrome chariot to spawn more Autobot legions?!”

Megatron leaned onto the table and exhaustedly said, “Let retrieving the AllSpark be my concern.”

Starscream rolled his optics. “You’re not foolish enough to believe that you can take on the entire Autobot battalion guarding the AllSpark on Cybertron by yourself?!”

Megatron fixed his Second in Command with a withering glare, and he couldn’t even find it in himself to take glee in the way the Seeker cowered.

Shockwave spoke again. “If I may, Lord Megatron?”

“Speak.”

“If I am given live test subjects, I can cultivate a biomechanical weapon, a virus that, when deployed from above the Autobot fortress, will kill them all within a cycle. Every Decepticon can be inoculated against it before its use. It could win us the war.”

Megatron blinked. “Disease is a weakling’s way to win.”

“It is logical. We do not have the resources for sustained siege warfare, nor concepts of honor.”

Megatron wiped a weary servo down his face. “Knock Out, starting now, every Decepticon is to be placed on further energon rations. High-ranking officers, the science team, and our strongest warriors are to receive priority rations. The first soldiers to fall into starvation stasis are to be given to Shockwave. Starscream? Evacuate our forces off of Cybertron and consolidate them here. Shockwave, that includes your science team. I will find you a lab. Afterwards, the space bridge is to be shut down until needed. Soundwave-”

Soundwave abruptly held up a servo and announced, “We are being hailed.”

Megatron raised an optic ridge. “Autobots?”

“Human military. They offer an opportunity for us to collect our dead. Coordinates: provided.” The screens in the room lit up suddenly with satellite imagery of human heavy machinery moving and neatly arranging Cybertronian bodies, and further on-ground images showed the bodies covered with tarps.

Megatron frowned. “What is the point of the tarps?”

“Human custom. A ritual of respect for the dead.”

His optics narrowed. “As if they have any respect for our living, let alone our dead. Even the Autobots are merely disposable shields to them. This is an obvious trap.”

Starscream reset his vocal emitter and ventured, “Lord Megatron, recovering our dead may be good for morale and prevent mutiny under increased rations.”

“Then you and your Seekers will have no qualms about collecting their remains.”

Starscream squawked in alarm, and Megatron adjourned the meeting.

–

Starscream may be many things, but he was effective, and the bodies of the Decepticon dead were returned within one Earth rotation after being thoroughly scanned for bombs or disease.

The soldiers were allowed to step outside and remove the tarps to correctly identify and account for their dead friends. A few of them wailed; most of them cursed and punched the ground, swearing vengeance on the Autobots. Good.

Soundwave was knelt beside the body of Rumble, staring blankly as Frenzy, Laserbeak, and Ravage cried and whimpered. They paused only for a moment when Megatron’s shadow fell over them, and then Ravage was rubbing up against his legs and Laserbeak perched on his cannon. Even Frenzy clung to his leg. Megatron ignored them all and instead skimmed over Rumble’s mutilated body with a critical optic. He was covered in harsh dents, burns, and scratches, and both legs were sheared off at the knee. Most likely caught in the explosion and resulting cave-in.

However, something was wrong.

“There’s signs of tampering,” Megatron murmured, gesturing at the internals of the sheared legs. “The fuel lines are clamped shut.”

Soundwave slowly looked up at him from behind his blank visor. “Megatron: suspects interrogation.”

Frenzy immediately pushed herself away from Megatron’s leg as if she were burned. “Rumble would never talk, never!”

Shrugging off Ravage and Laserbeak, Megatron stepped around the body and laid a heavy servo on his friend’s shoulder. “There is only one way to find out.”

–

“Remove his memory banks and scrub for viruses or worms before linking it to our systems. Scan frames of his last waking hour and search for humans or Autobots.”

Knock Out grimaced and flicked his arm, transforming it into a saw before glancing nervously at Soundwave. “Uh… are you sure you want to be here for this part, Soundwave?”

“He’s fine,” Megatron said coldly. “Continue.”

“O-kay. Breakdown, would you-? Thanks. Alright, here we go.”

After five minutes of careful autopsy, Rumble’s processor was removed and the memory banks ejected and scrubbed. Knock Out then gingerly handed the component to Soundwave before retreating back to his partner’s side. Soundwave stared down at the fragile thing for a long moment before he plugged it into the nearest computer and did as commanded, flipping rapidly through the frames until humans appeared before Rumble’s optics. Rewinding slightly, Soundwave then played the memory.

Rumble’s vision was nothing but darkness and rock illuminated by the dim flickering light of his optics. He vented heavily and writhed, pushing weakly at the boulder on top of him with a frightened whimper. “Help!” he screamed.

“I heard something! Over here!” came a feminine voice, and Rumble snapped silent, forcing even his vents to stop. The sound of tiny footfalls approached rapidly, then a light flooded the mining tunnel to sweep over Rumble’s form. “Oh my God, he’s alive! Quick, get that boulder off him!”

“Lieutenant Malto, what if it’s a Decepticon?”

“Does it matter?! Everyone, get ready and- PUSH!”

The boulder shifted, and Rumble let out a scream as he shoved at the boulder again, helping the humans get it off. Once he was free, he clawed at the ground and hyperventilated, swinging his helm around to look at the human soldiers. “Stay away from me! I’ll kill you! I’LL KILL YOU!”

“Everyone, put your weapons down. Put them down! Now look, we’re unarmed. My name is Lieutenant Dorothy Malto of the 75th, but you can call me Dot. We have a medic and an engineer. Surely we can do something for you if you let us. Now, do you want to live?”

The woman who spoke was muscular with dark brown skin and short, black kinky hair beneath her camo combat helmet. Her eyes were wide, brown, and impossibly fierce.

“What do you-” Rumble began.

“I said DO YOU WANT TO LIVE?”

“Y-Yes!”

“Garrett, Phillip, see what you can do.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The woman’s — Lieutenant Malto’s — men swiftly moved out of frame, only for Rumble’s optics to follow them to the sight of his severed legs. “O-Oh, PRIMUS-!”

“Hey,” Lieutenant Malto ordered, and Rumble looked to his side, where the woman was kneeling beside his helm and placing a gentle hand on his forehelm, like a carrier would an ailing sparkling. “Look at me. Keep those eyes on me, okay? Don’t focus on that nasty business down there. You’re okay.”

“Lieutenant, he’s bleeding out.”

“Then DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT! Hey, nonono, keep looking at me. Okay? What’s your name?”

“R-Rumble.”

“Rumble! That’s fun. Now tell me, what are some of your favorite things? What do you want to see again?”

“Um… Agh! It hurts!”

“Here- grab that rock. That one right there. Squeeze it when it hurts, okay? Squeeze it for me. That’s it. Better?”

“B-Better. Um. I want to see Cybertron again.”

“Tell me about Cybertron.”

“You wouldn’t like it now. It’s dead. But it used to be amazing. Shining and full of light and life. That’s what they tell me anyway.”

“And who’s they?”

“Soundwave. He’s like- like my carrier. And Megatron.”

“What’s a carrier?”

“Um… like a- well, when a bot forges someone and carries them around until they can live on their own.”

“Like a parent?”

“Maybe?”

“Okay, what’s some of your favorite memories with Soundwave? Keep talking to me.”

“Okay… He… My siblings and I like to ride around in his chest. It feels warm and safe. He cuddles us and plays with us. And Megatron, he- there was this one time he let us all paint him in fun colors? We made him green with pink and purple spots.”

“I… I never would have expected that from him. Guess I should have known better.”

“Yeah. He’ll come for me, just you wait!”

“You really believe in him, huh?”

“All of us do! He’s a hero! He freed us, freed us all! He… rrrgh, he…”

One of her men spoke up then. “Dot, he’s not-”

“I know, Garret. I know. Okay, Rumble. Keep telling me about your happiest memories, yeah?”

“S-So cold…”

“I know, honey. Think of someplace safe and warm, like Soundwave’s chest, yeah? Stay with me. Keep talking to me.”

“I tried to disarm the bombs… I thought… I could do it in… time…”

“Don’t think about that right now. You did the best you could. Now, what shade of paint do you think would look best on old Megatron?”

“Heheh… black… and- purple…”

“Ooh! Menacing. And what games would you like to play with your siblings again?”

“S… sing- ing… s…”

“Rumble?”

The video feed flickered.

“...scared.”

The woman shifted and grabbed his servo, pressing it against her chest and holding it tightly as she used her free hand to keep caressing Rumble’s helm. “Would you like me to sing a song?”

“...mhmm…”

“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me… I once was lost but now I’m found, was blind but now I see… Through many dangers, toils, and snares, I have already come… ‘Tis grace that brought me safe thus far, and grace shall lead me home…”

The visual feed, having slowly been fading into static, cut out into darkness and silence.

The room was still, suffocating in the stale air.

Knock Out recovered first, laughing and drawling, “Well, that was weird, eh?”

The medic froze when he turned around and saw coolant streaming down Megatron’s face. 

Abruptly, the warlord turned around and left.

Chapter Text

Knock Out and Breakdown knew better than to speak of what they saw, and if Soundwave was concerned about the display of weakness, he said nothing.

Megatron tried his best to shake off Rumble’s final moments, but he couldn’t stop… feeling. And wasn’t that what he’d sought for the past 500 vorns of numb apathy? To feel something again, to care?

Now that he had it, he realized he needed to get rid of it. The War was dire for both sides. The survival of their species required ruthless calculus, not compassion.

And yet… what good was ruthless calculus, was victory, if a human treated his Decepticons better than he did? Was he actually fighting for their freedom anymore, or had he reduced them only to their ability to kill, as he had been reduced to his ability to mine?

If he wasn’t fighting for the Cybertronians still alive, then what was he fighting for? New life hadn’t been forged in four million years. It may never be forged again. All they had was each other.

No. He couldn’t think like that. Doubt was a disease of the spark. He had to purge it, to correct his course. The Decepticons needed to be victorious. There was no other choice.

He had no choice in the War, but he could choose how to win it.

Finally stopping his pacing, he left his quarters towards the communications center.

–

:Knock Out,: Megatron commed, marching down the hallways towards the barracks. :Rescind the order of giving mechs who fall into stasis to Shockwave. Care for them to the best of your ability. We will be receiving further energon and medical supplies soon.:

There was a heavy pause, and then came the reply, :Of course, Lord Megatron.:

Finally emerging in the barracks, he barked, “Dreadwing. Skyquake. Astrotrain.”

The three massive mechs immediately snapped to attention and approached him, bowing their helms as Skyquake spoke, “We are at your service, my liege.”

“Come. We are all going out on a mission of grave importance.” 

The others fell into step behind him as he stalked down the hallway, and Astrotrain ventured, “Including you?”

Dreadwing gruffed, “You can trust my twin and I, my Lord. We do not need oversight.” Skyquake nodded his affirmation.

“This is not a matter of trust. This is a matter of assurance,” Megatron answered. “I will not sit idly by while our soldiers starve and fall to infection.”

“Of course,” Skyquake intoned. “What is our target?”

“An Autobot supply train.”

He could feel the hesitation in his soldiers’ EM fields before they drew them in close. 

Astrotrain spoke first. “Those are heavily guarded. If we could not take a single mine-”

Skyquake and Dreadwing firmly whacked Astrotrain on the sides. 

“The plan is simple. We destroy the tracks, disable the engine, and neutralize all hostiles so that Astrotrain can haul the payload back to base. You’ve already received briefings on the anti-Cybertronian countermeasures human militaries have developed. Ensure you do not fall to them.”

Dreadwing spoke next with, “How do you know where and when this train will be?”

“Soundwave, of course.”

Skyquake nodded. “Of course. He is a valuable asset to the Decepticon cause.”

“Enough chatter,” Megatron snapped as they reached the reinforced doors leading to the surface. “Decepticons, to the skies!”

–

It took them less than thirty minutes of flying to gain on the train as it traveled alongside a rocky cliff, a steep hill littered with thick choked woods on the other side of the tracks. Rockets were launched as soon as they flew within range, but were easily destroyed with a few energy blasts; once they were within visual range, anti-aircraft guns mounted on the tops of the train cars immediately opened fire, but the Decepticon quartet deftly dodged and weaved around the ballistics before opening fire on the AA guns, reducing them and their base cars to smoking slag. Autobots climbed out next to open fire at them, but their marksmanship was no match for the elite squadron as they shot ahead and dropped bombs on the tracks, rending the metal into shrapnel and causing a landslide.

The engine slammed on the emergency brakes, and the great metal wheels of the machine spat sparks as they skidded the terrible bulk to a halt just shy of the twisted metal. The Autobots went flying, rolling and skidding back to their pedes atop the train cars or beside the tracks only to be engaged by his three warriors. Megatron, meanwhile, transformed and landed in front of the engine, his red optics fierce in the low light of the setting sun as he glowered down at the machine.

Immediately the human engineer slammed the thing into reverse at full throttle, but it was an easy thing for Megatron to step around it and disconnect it from the rest of the train; grabbing the engine in his servos, the human screamed and leapt out the side door to fall to the ground, then scrambled off to safety as Megatron heaved the engine up off the tracks and hurled it down the hill, sending it rolling and crushing trees in its wake.

Turning his attention back to the Autobots, he immediately identified Prowl engaged in a shootout with Dreadwing, the two mecha taking cover behind various train cars as they each tried to blast a hole through the other’s processor; Arcee was engaging Astrotrain in martial combat, easily gaining the upper hand with her greater agility and intelligence, a blur of punches and spinning kicks; and Hot Rod was fighting Skyquake, keeping the larger mech at bay by throwing flames from his tailpipes and taking pot shots.

That left…

“I was wondering when you’d next show that ugly mug after the whooping we gave you at that mine.”

Grimlock.

Slowly smiling, Megatron turned around and transformed his arm into his glowing energy flail, staring down the King of the Dinobots as he began to spin it. “They have you on guard detail? I knew Prime thought lowly of you, but I didn’t know you were reduced to his pet.”

Grimlock shook with rage, his servos curling into fists, but he still managed to bite back, “Still beats being pathetic enough to attack a supply train for scraps!”

“At least we Decepticons don’t bow and grovel to humans so they deem us worthy of our supper!”

Grimlock roared and transformed into his Tyrannosaurus Rex alt-mode before charging at him, and Megatron twisted to rake his flail across the bot’s face in a shower of sparks; the blow left harsh gouges, but still wasn’t enough to stop the Autobot from snapping his jaws down around his arm. With a snarl, Megatron hauled on his arm to brace the brute before bringing his flail down repeatedly on the back of the bot’s neck until he had to either let go or be decapitated, and let go he did, only to whip around and slam him with his tail, knocking him prone.

Those jaws came for his throat next, but Megatron used the chain of his flail to catch that monstrous mouth like a bit and twist, flipping the Dinobot onto his side and allowing him to jam his fusion cannon against his chest to blow out his spark chamber.

“GRIMLOCK!” 

That was the only warning Megatron got before Arcee leapt and kicked his arm, sending the shot harmlessly into the distance before she rolled and readied herself again. Megatron transformed his flail back to a hand and lifted Grimlock above his head with a roar of his own, throwing the multi-ton behemoth into his charging friend and pinning her to the ground. Megatron was upon them in moments, kicking aside Grimlock’s own kick to pin him down with one knee and shove his fusion cannon against his head. 

Arcee snaked an arm out from under her friend to fire at him point-blank over the spark with a desperate yell; Megatron twisted out of the way just in time and settled for bringing both his fists down upon Grimlock’s head, rattling his processor enough to daze him and knocking Arcee out cold.

A yell of pain from Dreadwing caught his attention just in time for him to witness the mech’s arm go limp and start sparking, a hole in the shoulder joint, and nearby, Astrotrain lay unconscious.

“Dreadwing!” Skyquake shouted, abandoning his fight with Hot Rod to aid his twin; Megatron charged at the young mech instead, ignoring the flames to grab him by the neck and hoist him in the air before slamming him down against a boulder repeatedly until he went limp.

“HOT R-” Prowl began to shout, only to be caught by the face by Skyquake and punched in the small of his back by Dreadwing before being thrown into the pile of unconscious Autobots, spasming and groaning.

Megatron knelt down beside Astrotrain and jostled the mech until he woke up with a groan. “Wake up, you slagger,” he gruffed, hauling the mech back up to his pedes. “We have to get-”

He was interrupted by a loud warcry and the sound of rapidly decompressing air. 

“Now what-?” he began, turning around just in time to see humans of all things flinging themselves at the twins with grappling hooks attached to harnesses around their Army uniforms — Dreadwing snarled and tried to catch one, but the soldier slingshot herself around his wrist and stabbed the mech in the neck with a bayonet before unloading the magazine into the delicate wiring. Skyquake roared and reached to squish the little thing only for two more humans to grappling hook onto him and swing around his neck to garrote him as a third latched onto the small of his back, stabbing his own bayonet into the delicate mechanisms between the armor plating and twisting, wringing a strangled scream from the great warrior and sending him to his knees while Dreadwing coughed up energon from his intake, bleeding wildly from his neck as he, too, fell to his knees.

Baring his denta as Astrotrain grimaced and hid behind him, Megatron roared, “Face me, and see how well you fare!”

Most of the humans hesitated, hiding behind the wounded twins so that he would not obliterate them with his cannon. Only one stepped forward.

A dark-skinned woman with black kinky hair and fierce brown eyes.

“Lieutenant,” called a soldier, “Malto, don’t-!”

Megatron’s optics widened as the woman stood before him, shoulders back and defiant, her chin held proud, not an ounce of fear evident in her frame. 

In a strong, low voice so unlike the one she spoke to Rumble with, one capable of incredible violence instead of carrier-like tenderness, she said, “I would speak with you, Megatron.”

Quickly collecting himself, the warlord narrowed his optics and scowled at her. “You dare address me as if we are equals-?”

“Yes I do dare,” she snapped. “You are a guest on this planet, my homeworld, and you will answer to me. The only reason I am giving you this courtesy is because I believe you want to restore and return to your home, not rule ours as an invader and conqueror.”

Megatron stalked towards her. “And if that is my intention?” he gruffed, reaching down, and her squadron gasped and yelped as he picked her up in his large servo, yet she still did not flinch, scowling up at him. “After all, why should I respect something so insignificant that I could crush her with a wayward spasm?” To prove his point, he increased the pressure of his grip, ever so slightly, making her ribs creak.

Hissing through her teeth, she answered, “I’ll tell you why. Because my ancestors were enslaved by invading empires who defined their worth only as chattel. Because Carter’s ancestors were beaten and starved by conquerors as if they were common pests. Because Naveh’s people were the targets of genocide by jackbooted thugs following a dictator who thought that if he could just kill enough people, he could achieve true peace. Well guess what. We’re still here, all of us, and all those empires are dead. We could have helped you, but instead you attack and kill our people, and for what? Energon? It takes a real stupid son of a bitch to choose violence as his first option.”

Megatron considered her for a long moment, then loosened his grip back to something more comfortable. “You expect me to believe that humanity would give up their main energy source to foreign aliens and ask for nothing in return of a people who have nothing they can afford to give? Who do you take me for, the Prime?”

“That sorry excuse of a leader? Ha! No.” She freed an arm and jabbed a finger at him. “I had hoped you would be better. Someone worthy of my respect. But so far every time you open your fool mouth, all I hear is the pathetic posturing of a weak man trying to appear strong.”

“And if neither Prime nor I are vessels of strength, then what is?”

“Prime is a naive bastard whose belief in the better angels of our nature has gotten plenty of people killed,” she said darkly. “And you have little more to show for yourself than trying to get what you want out of force and fear. True strength is someone who knows when to be gentle and compromise, and when to stand firm and immovable, for the good of the people who depend on them.”

Megatron tilted his head and searched her face. “Like you?”

Malto huffed. “Someone has to be strong in this world.”

“...You mentioned earlier that talking to me is a courtesy. What is your goal? To persuade me to leave peacefully empty-handed? I have starving soldiers in need of energon, and now two new wounded who need medical supplies. This train is non-negotiable.”

“Then it’s a good thing my offer is this: spare the Autobots and my squad, and I’ll let you take the train.”

Megatron raised an optic ridge. “And if I kill you all and take the train anyway? What consequence shall I face?”

“Death and ruin,” Malto said easily. “Maybe not today. Maybe not in a million years. But so help me God, you can snap my spine and turn me to paste, but you can’t stop the simple truth that all empires fall, and all dictators die. So go on, Megatron. Choose your legacy.”

The air snapped taut with tension for a long moment, both of their respective soldiers holding perfectly still, expectant, waiting for the sound of shattered bone and torn flesh.

Instead, Megatron gently set her down.

“Astrotrain,” he ordered, looking over his shoulder at the shellshocked mech. “Get this train moving.” Turning forward again, he carefully stepped over Lieutenant Malto and aided the twins to their pedes as the humans flocked to their leader’s side. Helping first Dreadwing, then Skyquake onto one of the flatbeds as Astrotrain transformed into his engine alt-mode and attached himself to the cars, Megatron made sure his soldiers were secure before turning to look back at the humans and recovering Autobots.

Lieutenant Malto inclined her head at him.

Megatron inclined his helm back, then transformed into his Cybertronian jet alt-mode to lead Astrotrain back to base.

Chapter Text

Megatron and all his officers filed into the war room and took their places around the table. The air around them practically crackled with tension from their EM fields.

“Status report,” Megatron rasped, exhausted and weary as he leaned on the table.

Shockwave practically lashed out his field like a stinging whip. “The Autobot attack during the evacuation of my science team on Cybertron completely destroyed our rebuilt portion of Vector Sigma and rendered it irrecoverable. We now have no immediate means of cyberforming planets.”

Megatron glared at the scientist and let out a warning pulse through his own field. “Then we’ll find another way of reviving Primus, which should be our sole goal.”

Starscream spoke up then, screeching, “The Autobots have the AllSpark, why don’t they use the thing to revive our homeworld?!”

Megatron looked at Shockwave expectantly with a stern frown, and the scientist bitterly explained, “All historical data explains that the AllSpark houses infinite sparks for our species, every bot who ever was and ever will be. To use it to revive the core of our world, to revive a god, may require using the infinite lifeforce of our kind. Our world would be habitable once more, at the cost of our guaranteed extinction.”

Knock Out piped up with, “That useless box hasn’t made a newspark in over four million years, so why not use it to jump-start Cybertron? It’s not like we’re making sparklings anyway.”

Megatron gravely said, “The AllSpark needs life to create life. Its location on a dead world probably signals to it that there is no viable habitat for newsparks.”

Shockwave leaned on the table and pressed, “If I may, Lord Megatron?”

“Speak.”

“Earth is very much a living world rich in energon and minerals. If we cannot cyberform Cybertron, it is logical to instead shift our focus to colonizing other worlds. With the AllSpark, we can forge new legions of warriors to exterminate the Autobots and all indigenous lifeforms-”

The building rage ramping Megatron’s EM field into a storm unlike anything he’d felt in millions of years exploded suddenly in a dark bellow of “NO!” and a crashing fist that sent an ominous crack through the metal table.

Starscream flinched back and shielded his face, screeching, “What-?!” Knock Out had a servo to his chest, Soundwave tilted his helm, but Shockwave stood defiant.

Megatron raised his hackles and snarled, “You mean to tell me that you want to forge a new generation of mechs only to assign them the function of a warrior?!”

Shockwave looked at him, flat. “You are becoming hysterical. It is embarrassing.”

The warlord scoffed. “What’s hysterical is the mere thought of welcoming new life not into a free and peaceful world, but into the very caste system we fought to destroy. The gall.”

The scientist’s EM field turned bitter. “It is the only logical choice. Freedom may be restored once the Autobots are eradicated and this world is secured. War is no place for illogical ideals.”

Starscream looked to Megatron then and sneered, “And how exactly are we supposed to rule this planet without a greater army? We don’t have the numbers to win this war and you know it!”

The Seeker immediately braced himself for a strike, but none came.

Megatron instead stood, dangerously still and quiet, until finally, he spoke, his voice as soft as his optics were fierce.

“What if we don’t have to fight?” he said. “What if we propose a peace treaty with the Autobots and humanity? Together, we can pool our resources, end all this needless death, and work together to heal our homeworld.”

Silence stretched out, filling the air around and above them like an executioner’s blade.

Then Knock Out began to laugh. And laugh, and laugh some more, prompting Starscream to laugh, and soon both mechs were howling with mirth.

“Ahem,” Knock Out finally managed, frantically reining himself under control when Megatron did nothing but stare him down with a stern frown. Resetting his vocalizer, he managed, “You’re joking, right? Tell me you’re joking? How many Decepticons have died on my table alone for the Decepticon cause, for your cause, and y-you just what- you want us to be buddy-buddy with their murderers, with a bunch of disgusting sentient flesh sacks?!”

Megatron scowled. “If you want to secure the future of our species, this is the way to do it!”

Starscream spat, “By surrendering?!”

“By negotiating from a position of strength,” Megatron gruffed. “The Autobots fear us. We are the only thing stopping the restoration of Cybertron. If we keep going as we are, we will wipe out both factions and go extinct within the next vorn. Then what will our dead’s sacrifices be for? Continuing this cycle of violence has gotten us nowhere in four million years, why would it get us anywhere now? Failed strategy requires new tactics.”

Shockwave growled, “We can bring about a New Age of Expansion by using the AllSpark to win the war with overwhelming force.”

“You mean the Age of Imperialism? I will not allow it.”

Starscream snipped, “Then maybe what we need is a new leader.”

Megatron turned to glare at him, meeting his second-in-command’s hateful field with his own, only to bristle as he was also lambasted by Shockwave’s and Knock Out’s. Only Soundwave stood with his field held close, silent and watchful.

Gritting his denta, Megatron curled his servos into fists and violently lashed his field outwards to force the offending energy back before snapping it in tight and close and guarded, his vision blurring as that morning’s energon slid up his intake and onto his glossa. Swallowing as discreetly as he could, he hissed, low and dangerous, meeting each of their optics in turn, “You are either with me, or you are against me. Never forget that.” Pushing off the table, he stormed out the door. “Dismissed.”

Starscream shrieked, “But what are we doing-?”

“I said dismissed!” Megatron snapped, punching the screen to shut the door behind him.

–

He almost didn’t make it back to his quarters before falling apart.

Almost.

As soon as the door shut and locked behind him, he fell to his knees and onto his servos, venting heavily as his fans roared and his plating flared. More energon surged up his intake and he staggered into his private washrack, blasting the solvent as cold as it would go as he purged.

His vision wildly fluctuated off and on, so he reset his optics and stared down at his twitching servos.

“What am I doing?” he whispered to himself, his gaze sliding to the Decepticon symbol emblazoned on his chest.

How had he let things get this bad? How had he let them go so far? 

Is this truly all he had to show for every mech who ever died in his name?

He’ll come for me, just you wait!

You really believe in him, huh?

All of us do! He’s a hero! He freed us, freed us all!

He couldn’t be that hero if he allowed a generation of newsparks to wake up as slaves, forged only to die in a war that wasn’t theirs. 

Yet what was he to do? What could he do? If he ordered his Decepticons to stand down and make peace, there would be a coup. At best, he’d be thrown into the brig. At worst, they’d kill him and erase his name, hijacking his own movement into a twisted shadow of everything he stood for. Granted, they were going to do that no matter what he did. He drilled that zealous sense of righteousness and sadism into them from the start.

Looking up at the solvent and suddenly fearing it turning to acid or poison, he turned it off and stood to his pedes, numbly walking into his room to sit on the berth and hold his helm between his knees.

He wished Terminus were here.

He wished Orion…

He shuttered his optics and curled further in on himself. No. No, in this, he was alone.

…Or was he?

He heard the door to his quarters unlock and knew that only one other mech would dare breach his space by force, even now.

“Soundwave,” he greeted, pulling himself together, feeling his spark swell at the sight of his friend. Standing up, still dripping solvent, he hurried to meet the mech halfway across the room, quickly taking his servos in his own and squeezing them with a smile.

“Megatron,” Soundwave replied, leaning back slightly, and carefully, tentatively, his EM field brushed against Megatron’s own with a hint of affection and rolling waves of worry. “Soundwave: spoke to the others. Their loyalty… remains. For now.”

“Of course you did,” Megatron said fondly, and he opened his intake to keep talking-

“Soundwave,” Soundwave continued, “...concerned.”

Megatron blinked and shook his helm slightly. “Forget them, Soundwave-”

“Concerned for Megatron.”

“I’ll be fine-”

“You are not ‘fine,’” the mech said forcefully, ripping his servos out of his grasp, and Megatron’s smile died on his face. “Megatron’s wellbeing and sanity: degraded. Over the past millions of years, you… changed. Now, Megatron is…” Soundwave’s field roiled uncomfortably.

Megatron leaned back in turn and raised an optic ridge. “And what am I, now?” he asked, his voice quiet and low.

“...Weak.”

There was once a time where Megatron would have offlined a mech for far less.

As he stood there, staring through Soundwave rather than at him, the mech closed the distance between them again and rested his servos against his silver chassis, pressing their helms together in a tender embrace as they had countless times before. An embrace that Megatron instinctually returned, his numb servos resting on wide hips.

Soundwave murmured, “Megatron: hurts himself. Cries. Spares Autobots. Spares humans.” Megatron’s optics finally focused again to gaze down at his best friend. “Soundwave: remained silent. Silence: a mistake. Our bond: eroded, one-sided. Megatron: allow me to ease your burdens.” A pause. “Please.”

With that, Soundwave gave a gentle push towards the berth, but Megatron did not move.

Soundwave looked up at him questioningly, only to snap his gaze down when Megatron wrapped his servos slowly around his wrists and pried them off of him, forcing them back.

Cycling his optics, Megatron turned his back on the mech he would once have taken as his amica endura… or even, maybe… his conjunx.

Once.

“I will take your words under consideration,” he said lowly, mimicking the dangerous timber that once naturally rang in his voice. “Leave me.”

He felt it as Soundwave reached out one last time with his field, prying at the edges of his own, a silent question, a plea.

Megatron kept his field clamped down tight and close, an unflinching wall to Soundwave’s advances.

The silence between them was deafening.

“...As you wish, Lord Megatron,” Soundwave managed. Megatron closed his optics as the other mech left.

He knew what he had to do.

–

It was a simple thing to write the code and put it on a drive. Having spent so much time listening to Soundwave practically dump information on coding into his lap over the millennia they’d known each other, even a warbuild like him could construct a crass data purger. As for his belongings, he never kept much. Certainly nothing sentimental, and nothing he would need for where he was going.

Walking through the communications center, Megatron casually slipped the drive into a server and continued striding towards the exit. It only took a few kliks for the screens to snap into static behind him, flashing red warnings of corrupted data. Soundwave would soon come roaring out of berth to find the calamity. Megatron intended to be long gone by then.

The exit to the surface was in his sights when Starscream emerged from the shadows and purred, “Going somewhere, Megatron?”

“I need some air,” he replied coolly, shoulder-checking the mech on the way out.

“Well,” Starscream chuckled. “Don’t let me stop you…”

Megatron opened the massive doors and stepped out into the crisp night air, not even stopping as he opened his chest plates and pried off the spark monitor and tracker that every Deception was outfitted with. He crushed the device in his servo and cast it onto the ground before leaping into the air and transforming into his jet alt-mode, blasting off and breaking the sound barrier just as their anti-aircraft guns came online and swung around to target him.

But he was gone.

Chapter Text

It was a quiet morning at Welker U.S. Army Base. The sun was just beginning to crest the horizon, painting the sky in beautiful hues of baby blue, pastel lilac, and lily orange. In the trees, the birds were singing their morning songs, watching with bright eyes as Dot Malto did her morning jog with her squad.

They were singing their own song, though she bet it didn’t sound as pretty.

“I wanna be an Airborne Ranger!” she called out.

“I wanna be an Airborne Ranger!” her men answered.

“Live a life of guts and danger!”

“Live a life of guts and danger!”

“Airborne Ranger!”

“Airborne Ranger!”

“Guts and danger!”

“Guts and danger!”

And so they continued.

Until they were interrupted near the end of their final lap by the air raid sirens going off.

“GET INSIDE!” she bellowed to her squad, pushing them towards the main building as all the other personnel outside began sprinting for cover. Once her squad made it indoors, she followed behind them, their boots pounding against the linoleum as they ran to get their gear, and as they dashed the intercom overhead crackled and announced, “Unknown flying object approaching airspace at low altitude. All ground units assume Decepticon protocol and proceed to bomb shelters. Autobots have been alerted. Flight teams scrambling. Firing warning shot.”

Suiting up and finally getting the last buckle cinched tight just as the sound of a massive cannon fired, Dot looked to her team and said, “We have our orders. You all go on to the shelter, I’ll check in with High Command.”

“Got it, Lieutenant!”

“See you soon, Malto!”

Carter, his pale freckled skin somehow paler below his buzzed ginger hair, gave her a nervous smile and squeezed her shoulder. Dot smiled back at him and patted his baby face before they started running in separate directions.

Slipping into the Command and Information Center, Dot briefly took in the scrambling soldiers before finding her commander leaning on the back of the radar operator’s chair, a headset over his ears as he stared at the screens filtering in rapid flows of information.

“Commander Goto,” she called out, marching up to him, “what’s the situation?”

Commander Goto spared her a brief glance. “It’s Megatron.”

Dot balked. “Megatron?”

The radio operator turned towards the rest of the room and called, “We’re being hailed,” before flipping a switch.

After a crackle, Megatron’s brogue rumbled through the room’s speakers.

“Welker Command, this is Megatron of Cybertron requesting to enter your airspace and land. I acknowledge your warning shot and assure I will not harm human lives unless I am attacked. I would speak with Lieutenant Dorothy Malto.”

Immediately, all eyes turned to her.

General Matthews lifted his chin, expectant.

Allowing herself exactly one second to reel at all of this, Dot squared her shoulders and looked at the general. “Let him land. I’ll talk to him.”

Grimly nodding, General Matthews picked up the transponder and replied, “Megatron, you are cleared to land on helipad E. Lieutenant Malto will meet with you under heavy guard.”

“Acknowledged.”

Commander Goto turned towards General Matthews and asked, “What’s the ETA on the Autobots?”

One of the analysts replied, “Fifteen minutes out.”

The general gruffed, “Somebody talk to the Prime about that response time, if this were a real attack we’d be a smoking crater by the time they got here. We still might be. Lieutenant Malto? Grab your squad, I’m sending you out there to stall. Charleston Company will join you, but I’m not willing to waste any more men.”

“Yes, Sir,” Dot replied, then quickly marched off to fetch her team.

–

Megatron flew over the base, curved around, and landed in a spinning spiral as he transformed knelt on one knee just as Dot was striding towards helipad E with her squad at her back, their weapons in hand as Charleston Company surrounded him. On the roofs, snipers were settling onto their stomachs, and every piece of heavy artillery was aimed at the mech. 

Megatron, leader of the Decepticons, slowly stood up to his massive, towering height and scowled at them all, his red eyes burning like the fires of Hell.

Once Dot was within yelling range, she bellowed, “You sure know how to make an entrance, don’t you, Megatron?”

The Decepticon turned towards her then, and his expression settled. “Lieutenant Malto,” he greeted. “We meet again.”

Coming to a stop at a dignified distance where she didn’t have to crane her neck up to look him in the eye, her squad stood at her flanks and set their shoulders, eyeing him warily. “Don’t tell me this is a social call.”

“It is not,” Megatron confirmed, serious as the grave. “I have come to surrender myself into your custody. Any and all information I have on the Decepticons, their numbers, resources, movements, tactics, and future targets, is yours. Any orders you give me, I will follow.”

Everyone, including all of Charleston Company, stood in stunned silence.

“The fuck?” yelled a random soldier from the back.

Finding her words again, Dot called back, “And what’s in it for you?”

“Securing the future of my planet and my people,” Megatron replied.

They were interrupted then by the sound of roaring engines and incoming choppers, and everyone turned to look as a familiar semi truck flanked by a legion of vehicles came charging towards the helipad.

Transforming into his bipedal base form, Optimus Prime assumed a battle stance, summoning his energy ax with a flick of his arm while Elita-1 and Prowl transformed at his sides, weapons at the ready. “Megatron,” the Prime called out. “Your fight is with me. Let these humans go-”

Dot held up a hand and then sharply closed it into a fist, and Prime shut up. Megatron’s brow shot upwards and his mouth twitched into a faint smirk. Pointedly clearing her throat, Dot yelled, “I got this handled, Prime.”

Prime looked embarrassed and shifted his weight. “With all due respect, er…”

Megatron smoothly answered with, “Lieutenant Dorothy Malto of the 75th Ranger Regiment.”

Prime blinked, looking faintly like an owl with how big his eyes were.

Dot bit her lip to hold back a smirk of her own. “Megatron and I are already acquainted.”

Elita-1 spoke then, rolling her shoulders back. “We’re all familiar with the supply train incident, Lieutenant. But one act of mercy could hide deeper deception.”

“Do not treat me like I’m a child,” Dot snapped. “I am well aware of Megatron’s M.O. and his crimes, and I have no intention of being played for a sucker. Do you even know why he’s here?”

Prowl snapped back, “Does it matter?”

Dot narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t know attacking surrendered prisoners was in the Autobot Code.”

She watched as a bolt of shock rolled through all the Autobots.

“It’s true,” Megatron intoned, what little mirth he had gone from his face. Now he just looked exhausted. “Optimus, for four million years you never stopped appealing to my better nature. Well… Here I am, finally following your advice.”

Prowl snarled “Like slag you are,” and advanced only to be held back by Prime, who opened his mask to reveal his dropped jaw.

With the attention of every living thing in the vicinity, Megatron gravely spoke, “I intend to surrender myself into Lieutenant Malto’s custody and cooperate in any way required to stop my former officers from running our species into the ground.”

Prime spoke then, tilting his head. “Why not… order them to stop? Why not negotiate peace?”

Megatron slowly closed his optics, his expression pinched. “I have fallen out of favor with my own command. I had every intention of negotiating peace with you, but when it became clear I would never live to utter the words, I fled to ensure their plans would not come to pass.”

Prowl growled, “So you’re just saving your own aft.”

Megatron glared at the bot. “I do not care what happens to me. These… pretenders… of the Decepticon cause… they cannot be allowed to succeed. I’m willing to dismantle my legacy in order to see that future generations of Cybertronians live free, equal, and in peace…” He looked down at Dot. “As well as humans.”

Dot crossed her arms. “Why not surrender yourself into Prime’s custody instead of mine? You two used to be friends.”

Megatron and Prime shared a mutually exhausted glance. “Used to be,” Megatron said lowly. “My actions have more than justified a swift execution by the Autobots. I would much rather work with you to try and make amends and save as many lives as possible… Decepticons included.” He hung his head. “I have caused them enough grief.”

Dot studied him carefully. “How do I know I can trust you, that I can trust my squad with you?”

“You don’t.”

“And if I decide to just take your intel and throw you to the Autobots?”

Megatron frowned. “...Then I will abide by that decision.”

The air grew heavy with the weight of the silence that followed. Even Prime was looking at her, expectant.

Dot turned to look at her squad.

Naveh, Kepler, and Baptiste grimaced and shrugged. Fitzsimmons, Zhang, and Gomez subtly shook their heads. And Carter gave her a smile and a wink.

Inclining her head at them all and seeing understanding filter into their eyes, she turned back to Megatron. “Megatron?”

Megatron straightened, awaiting her verdict.

“Welcome to the squad.”

Chapter Text

Having the equivalent of an enemy (ex-?)dictator under her command was… surreal, to put it simply.

To his credit, Megatron stayed true to his word and gave yottabytes of data on the Decepticons to their information and combat analysts, and personally testified the status of their supplies, the locations and schedules of their supply lines, their numbers, their tactics, their current goals, and their likely targets. All told, it took him two weeks to finish his testimony, and at the end of those two weeks he was released as a ‘private contractor’ assigned to her squad of Rangers.

“Megatron,” Dot announced proudly, “meet my squad. This is Corporal Garrett Carter, our combat medic-”

Carter, a beanpole of a man with pale skin, ginger hair, and freckles, smiled and saluted.

“-and next we have Sergeant Phillip Fitzsimmons, our field engineer-”

Fitzsimmons, a shrewd man with paler skin than Carter as pure as porcelain and a buzzed head of brunette hair, simply narrowed his blue eyes and scowled.

“-and this is Specialist Esther Naveh, our communications expert-”

Naveh, her skin tanned and her black hair cut in a close bob, saluted nervously.

“-and the rest are John Kepler, Henry Baptiste, Kim Zhang, and Ricky Gomez, the finest soldiers I have ever known.”

Kepler, his dark skin and bald head glistening with sweat, smiled and nodded cordially; Baptiste, blonde Frenchman that he was, bowed with a flourish; Zhang saluted, her expression steely; and Gomez, his handsome sculpted features and rich brown skin accented by a painstakingly well groomed head of short black hair to match his mustache, just looked bored.

Megatron inclined his head at them all and gruffed, very unconvincingly, “A pleasure.”

Fitzsimmons turned towards Commander Goto and asked, “So when do we ship out?”

Commander Goto sighed and said, “You don’t.”

“What?” Dot asked lowly, her voice flat and unamused as she and the rest of her squad turned to face the man, all of them cast in Megatron’s shadow.

“Never before have we had a hybrid Cybertronian-human unit before,” their commander said evenly. “Let alone with a former hostile. As such, High Command wants you all to go through a series of trials to test unit cohesion. Training, if you will.”

Her squad immediately exploded in angry outcries.

“This is bullshit!”

“We’ve proved our mettle, Commander!”

“We didn’t ask for this!”

Even Megatron grimaced and gruffed, “I did not betray everything I fought for for four million years to become a handicap.”

Commander Goto simply drawled, “If you want this hybrid unit to work, you have to prove that you won’t get yourselves killed. Megatron, you have foreign combat training and experience as a general, not as part of a U.S. Army paratrooper strike team. And as for you soldiers, you’ve been trained to take down giant war machines, not utilize one in your tactics. If we don’t reformat your training, then Megatron may as well be running roughshod over the battlefield, and will that really make your jobs easier?”

There were murmurs of ‘no’s.

Commander Goto huffed. “I can’t hear you.”

“NO, SIR!”

“Good, you finally quit your whining. Now get out there — Trial 1 starts now.”

–

Trial 1 turned out to be an obstacle course with a flag at the end that meant to stand for a stranded civilian. 

It should have been simple.

Should have been.

On their first attempt, Megatron simply leapt up into the air and transformed into his jet alt-mode, flying over all the obstacles before transforming again and grabbing the flag, proudly announcing that the trial was over and asking for the next.

Commander Goto simply pointed at Megatron’s plating with a flat frown.

Sure enough, the high and mighty Megatron was pockmarked with splatters of pink paint. Reviewing the obstacle course once more revealed turrets and snipers with paintball ammunition. 

“You got shot down, genius. Those paintballs are Decepticon missiles.”

Megatron narrowed his eyes and grumpily rumbled his engines before setting the flag back down and returning to the team.

On their next attempt, Megatron sulkingly hung back while Dot and her squad charged into the obstacle course, dodging the swinging tires, crawling through mud beneath barbed wire, using their grappling hooks to scale wooden walls, slingshotting around trees to tag out the turrets and snipers, before finally Dot managed to grappling hook up the platform to reach the flag.

Dot and the rest of them whooped and hollered, pounding their chests and yelling “Rangers, lead the way!”

Commander Goto’s severe frown made their celebration fizzle out to nothing.

“The civilian’s dead.”

“What?!” her squad squawked.

Commander Goto just rolled his eyes and held up a stopwatch. “You were too slow. The structure they were on collapsed before you could get to them.”

Dot huffed and set the flag back down. “Well then what time do we have to beat?!” she hollered.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

And so it continued.

On their third attempt, Megatron tried to dodge the paintballs in his jet form only for them to make it impossible for him to land and save the flag; meanwhile, Dot and her squad tried to make it through the obstacle course as fast as they could, only for one of the paintball snipers to break off of Megatron and nail Carter in the shoulder while they were all bunched up.

“Total Party Kill,” Commander Goto bellowed. “Try again!”

On their fourth attempt, Dot tried to order Megatron to tag out the hostiles on the right while she and her squad tagged out the hostiles on the left, which they managed, but Megatron still ended up being shot down by them being too slow to take down the last sniper, and then they failed the time limit.

By their twelfth attempt, all of them, Cybertronian and human alike, were covered in pink paint and mud.

“Alright, that’s enough for today,” Commander Goto groaned from behind his hands. The sun was dipping below the horizon, turning the sky a fiery orange. “Go hit the showers. I’m not sure this is gonna work…”

Megatron growled and sneered, “This is a pointless exercise. On a real battlefield I would not be holding myself back to this ridiculous degree.”

That made Commander Goto drop his hands and scowl up at the colossus. “You willing to kill your former soldiers, Megatron?”

Megatron said nothing, averting his gaze, something haunted crossing his expression that Dot couldn’t help but notice.

“Dismissed,” Commander Goto said, exhausted, before trudging back towards HQ. 

Fitzsimmons rounded on Megatron and barked, “This is all your fault! We were doing just fine until you showed up! None of us asked for you to be part of our squad, you selfish son of a bitch!”

“Phillip,” Dot snapped. 

Megatron just held up a servo and said, “No, he’s correct.”

“Damn right I am,” Fitzsimmons fumed, his hands balled into fists as if he was actually going to slug the 30-foot war machine. 

Said 30-foot war machine then coolly added, “I’m sure the Autobots would gladly take me off your hands, as well as your squad off the front lines. They believe that humans are too fragile to share a battlefield with Cybertronians. Are they correct?”

Carter gently touched Fitzsimmons’s arm and softly said, “We’re the only squad cleared to operate in hot zones, but only if he’s with us.”

Dot squared her shoulders and pointedly cleared her throat, and when all eyes were on her, she lowly said, “Megatron being on this team was my decision, not yours, and it was a decision I made because I saw how much good we could do together. If you have an issue with my decisions, you address them with me, rather than throwing a hissy fit like a child. Understood?”

There were murmurs of agreement, and Fitzsimmons crossed his arms with what could only be a pout.

“I said AM I UNDERSTOOD?”

“YES, MA’AM!”

“Good,” Dot huffed. “Now. We are all disgusting, so let’s go get cleaned up.”

The rest of her squad began filing out back to the barracks, though Megatron seemed to hesitate, looking around as if he were lost.

Dot doubled back and casually gestured towards the base’s large vehicle wash. “Sorry big guy, but I think the only facilities that can accommodate you are over there.”

“Charming,” Megatron deadpanned, looking less than enthused. “Out in the open, no less…”

Dot snorted and crossed her arms. “Did all your soldiers have a private shower? We sure don’t.”

The mech glared down at her. “It is not the lack of privacy that vexes me. It is the designation of an object.”

That cut through her glibness like a hot knife. Frowning, she uncrossed her arms. “I won’t deny that most humans, even some of my squad, see you as an asset at best, and a monster at worst. But I don’t see you as a monster, and I sure as hell don’t see you as a tool. You’re part of my squad, and that means you’re my brother.”

A strange look crossed Megatron’s face, then. “We are not family.”

“Not in the literal sense, no. But I’m responsible for you, and you’re responsible for me. We have to be willing to take a bullet for each other. That’s intimate.”

“I can withstand far many more bullets than your feeble organic body can. Is that what I am to be? A living shield for you and your men?”

“And am I just your ticket away from the executioner’s ax?”

They stared at each other for a long moment.

“No,” Megatron said softly, looking away. “You are my chance to atone.”

Dot felt her expression gentle. “And as far as I’m concerned, you’re my hope that this war can end.”

Megatron laughed, then, a pained, mirthless thing. “We shall see if I make any difference at all. So far, I have achieved nothing more than getting pelted with paintballs.”

“We’ll figure these trials out,” Dot swore. “Don’t go giving up on me now already.”

“I do not ‘give up’.”

“Good,” Dot said fiercely. “Keep that fire, we’ll need it.”

Silence settled over them both. But something was gnawing at Dot, and she didn’t get this far by not trusting her gut.

“It bothers you, being thought of as an object. Why?”

Megatron’s expression darkened, something haunted crossing his face again. “...Perhaps one day I will tell you why, Lieutenant. But not today.”

She hummed. “That’s fair. Well, let’s go wash off.” And with that, she began walking towards the vehicle wash.

“I believe you are heading in the wrong direction.”

“I’m heading exactly to where I intend to wash off,” Dot called over her shoulder. “We’re just two people going to run through some hoses. It’ll be fun! Come on!”

Something glinted in Megatron’s eye as a smile tugged at his lips, and shaking his head, he followed.