Every Autobot since the end of the War had heard stories of Megatron. Tyrant, warlord, city-killer, some even called him the emissary of Unicron himself – but that only when they were certain no member of the Council or Elite Guard could hear, for to speak of Unicron was to imply the existence of Primus, and to believe in Primus was to imply that there was a higher power than the Magnus. The Council tended to frown on that.
Optimus tried to squirm out of the grip of the giant who’d pulled him out of the Ark, but Lugnut merely laughed off his attempts. The Decepticons, with the exception of two insectoids lingering near the back, were all well over twice the age of any of Optimus’s crew. In fact, it seemed likely that some were as old as Ratchet, and had probably fought in the War.
Speaking of the War…
Lugnut hauled Optimus to what he guessed was the bridge of the nightmare ship, where the harsh light of some kind of stellar phenomenon made it hard to make out the figure framed against the viewports. Nevertheless, the young Prime guessed who it was when Lugnut knelt, dragging Optimus down with him. Peripherally, Optimus could see the Decepticons who had captured Bulkhead, Bumblebee, and Ratchet doing the same. Allspark only knew where Prowl was.
“My lord Megatron,” Lugnut announced in a drawing room bellow, “We bring you the spies, caught trespassing in your territory!”
“Spies?!” For a moment, Optimus let indignation outweigh a very healthy fear. “Now hold on just a nanoklik, we’re not spies! We didn’t even know anyone was out here!”
Dimly it occurred to him that a barely ranking Prime that the Council was doing its best to forget – thank you, Sentinel, for that – had no business addressing a supposedly extinct villain of legend, but it was too late now.
“Spies?” The word was repeated slowly in a low, rasping hiss that brought to mind steel sliding from a scabbard. Megatron turned and burning optics searched Optimus’s for a moment. The red lights narrowed in evident disgust. “These are talking infants, Lugnut. No more than a few vorns behind them at best. Have the Autobots grown desperate, or have they grown lazy?”
“Probably both?” The triple-changer remarked, then wisely clammed up when Megatron fixed him with a withering look.
The half-mythical Decepticon lord moved away from the viewport and stood over Lugnut and Optimus, who had to crane his neck to look into the mech’s optics. Despite the fact that he was more frightened now than he’d been in a long time, Optimus somehow felt that he could not afford to look away. He could barely make out Megatron’s facial features now, and blinked as they rapidly cycled from disgusted boredom to surprise to rage.
Megatron seized Optimus by the neck and tore him from Lugnut’s grasp.
“Who formatted you?” he demanded, “What is your designation?”
For a moment, the smaller mech’s vocoder failed him, and he stuttered in panic before managing to gasp out, “My name is Optimus Prime, and nobody formatted me! The protoform molded to my spark like this!” He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to defend his appearance to a Decepticon who was probably going to kill him, but the flare of irritation was a welcome distraction from terror.
Megatron whirled around and stalked back to the viewport, with the Autobot still dangling helplessly from his grip. “Helm, take us two degrees starboard and raise shields,” he growled. “Take us into the storm.”
(You can find the full version of the ficlet here)
There’s a reason I’m reblogging this for my Transformers Tuesday: a similarly themed snippet will be showing up later today. It felt thematically appropriate to start with my original “Decepticons think Optimus and his gang are a bunch of feral kindergarteners” au
This is an au of an au. It’s based on my “pirate Megatron and company surprise adopting the very unwilling Team Prime”, but in this version the Cybertronians are a cyborg species rather than giant transforming vehicle robots. Just because.
It was always amusing whenever his men managed to capture one of the so-called “Autobots” for a little…discussion. The troublesome urchins fought with twice the ferocity of the government that had disavowed and exiled them, with less than a fraction of their training. For the most part, they coexisted with Megatron’s government in an uneasy kind of unspoken, hostile symbiotic arrangement. Megatron graciously allowed the young cyborgs their freedom, and they kept the streets clear of the rank and file humans who styled themselves “supervillains”. Eventually, of course, the Decepticons would have to take the little exiles in hand once and for all. But the birth rate of cyborgs was so low even without the war on their homeworld. There hadn’t been any Decepticon younglings – nor even Neutral younglings – for many years. They couldn’t afford to kill the Autobot team. Not unless every attempt at integrating them into the Decepticon forces had failed.
Lugnut shoved the door open with one steel-plated arm and marched in. His synthetic skin, where it showed, was bruised – even torn in some places – and his armor was scuffed. The reason for his state of disarray was trapped, kicking and swearing, under one of the massive cyborg’s arms. Megatron raised one eyebrow. It was no easy feat to isolate and capture Optimus Prime. Lugnut would be getting hazard pay for this.
“Thank you, Lugnut,” Megatron said calmly, turning back toward the window, “You can place him where you’d like. This won’t take long.”
Until the day the Autobots pushed him too far, he would continue to maintain an informal “catch-and-release” policy.
“What do you want, Megatron?” Optimus demanded.
Megatron didn’t turn around. “A little more respect from you, to start with, but I suspect that’s as infeasible a request as asking the Autobot Council to revoke your outlaw status.”
He could almost hear the boy wince behind him. Megatron knew how to twist the knife.
After a span of two seconds, Optimus ground out, “You want my "respect”, Megatron? Earn it.“
Megatron shrugged smoothly. "If you cannot respect a Cybertronian controlling an entire city with minimal human death, then I don’t know how to help you. But in the absence of respect, compliance will suffice.”
He glanced up at the reflection of his office – formerly the office of Professor Isaac Sumdac – in the window. The boy had actually been bold enough to take a step forward, only to be pulled back by Lugnut, who had no intention of letting the Autobot ringleader get close to his liege.
“Compliance? Are you kidding me?! I’m an Autobot!”
“Youwere an Autobot.” Megatron turned on his heel and stepped closer to the young man. “The Magnus wanted nothing to do with you the moment you lost the Allspark. If you returned to the homeworld today, the very cyborgs that raised you would have you in chains before you left the shuttle. You know that, don’t you?”
Optimus set his jaw stubbornly, but Megatron knew his words had found their target. The marauder leaned down, putting him closer to eye level with Optimus.
“Mark me, boy: I have permitted you and your companions to continue your misguided crusade in my city this long only because it so vexes the High Council. Had you been Decepticon offspring by birth, I would not have been nearly as lenient.”
Optimus shut his mouth with a click. He stared at Megatron as though he’d grown a second head: part confusion, part fear. That was better. Perhaps in future…meetings…the outlaws would be a little more appreciative of the freedom they had been granted. Provided Megatron’s own soldiers didn’t antagonize the younger ones unnecessarily again. Children were rather hot-tempered, after all.
“What do you want, Megatron?” Optimus asked again. His tone was wary now, and some of the fight had gone out of it.
Megatron smiled coldly. It was as he often told Lugnut: one did not have to engage in violence to make a point. It was much easier to let the enemy realize on their own that you held all the cards.
“Mr. Powell has been encroaching on company territory with Biotech Unbound,” Megatron said calmly. “I have received word that he intends to unleash nanobots to deal with refuse within the city. However, given his…portfolio, I suspect this nanotechnology will prove to be more of a virus.”
At least the boy seemed to understand the gravity of the situation. Malignant nanobots would endanger any cyborg, regardless of the brand they wore. Optimus’s jaw tightened until his teeth audibly ground together. Then he sighed and dropped his head.
“Fine,” he said wearily, “I’ll handle it.”
Megatron smiled thinly. “That’s my boy.”
He flicked his fingers in dismissal. “Run along, Parvus Prime. You’re free to go.”
The Decepticon paused. “Actually. Since you’ve caught me in a relatively good mood, if you manage to obtain the nanobot blueprints, I’ll allow Sumdac out to visit the little one. If you obtain the blueprints.”
Optimus clenched his fists. “Fine. I’ll get the blueprints. But Sumdac gets a full 48 hours with Sari. No five minute visit through a fence.”
“That sounds reasonable enough.” Megatron folded his hands behind his back. “And do take care not to let the wee one short out the computer systems. He’s gotten a little too fond of those electric "stingers”.“
Optimus actually rolled his eyes. ”You try telling Bee what to do,“ he scoffed. "You learn to pick your battles.”
He sidestepped as Lugnut reached for him and narrowed his eyes in warning.
“Hands off,” he hissed.
Megatron turned his eyes to the ceiling in mock exasperation.
For all his talk, clearly the boy’s original guardians never bothered to teach him to pick his battles. He would have to learn sooner or later if he wished to survive this new Detroit. As Lugnut escorted the angry outlaw out of the tower, Megatron shook his head and smirked.
“Entirely too much like you, this descendant of yours, Brother. The Allspark must have a sense of humor to inflict you twice upon me.”
