Megatron and the Decepticats

So It Begins?

Earth.

The dust had barely settled over Jasper, Nevada since the last skirmish between Autobots and Decepticons. Heaping remnants of the local town's destruction still remained, quarantined from the public for governmental regulation and cleanup. The whispers, though hushed, carried through the streets. Something was obviously awry – and the people said it may be titans.

Megatron cared not for their rumors or government secrets; he didn't care for their ruinous town, either. At this point, he didn't even care for the Decepticon cause, his life's work; it hadn't been long since he officially disbanded the regime, abandoning the glow of Cybertron's newly breathed life.

But why would he opt to return to this planet? Unicron's prison, the battlefield of his longsuffering, home to the fleshling creatures he'd developed such a keen distaste for. He couldn't place it himself. Maybe he took admiration in the organic landscape, as it were, or solace in the quiet corners still found on this planet. Maybe he knew he could rust in peace.

That's what he would set out to do, after all.

The reverberating voice of Unicron still called out to him as he glided through the atmosphere, bathed in the cover of clouds. It was incoherent, as the mind of the giant had been stripped away by Optimus Prime, but still audible in Megatron's receptors. He would never be free of the Lord of Chaos, even in death; recollecting his destiny to merge with the antispark sent a shudder through his very own.

He landed among a pile of rubble; a junkyard, he assumed. Though his vehicle form was unconventional and sure to bring attention, he didn't stress the matter; the junkyard was snuggled tightly into the apocalyptic town he'd destroyed previously. Here, among the results of his triumph, he could rust over with his thoughts. He parked himself for a while, unmoving. His neural network buzzed with the same recurring thoughts as he reflected on his misery, and in that, he found a strange contentment. Live and let die, he remembered reading on some signpost in this lazy town. It didn't mean much to him then. He reflected on it now.

It was a couple of hours of this before his audial receptors picked up a faint rattling... some manner of creature was nearby, presumably, digging through the garbage and tossing metal and plastic amok. He ignored it, for a while. But it carried on.

And on.

And...

Oh, Primus' sake. What could possibly be making this manner of noise? He may need to rethink his strategy of pitiable agony.

Transforming for a moment to better investigate his surroundings, Megatron quickly identified the source; something was digging through a trash can. He delicately plucked up the cylinder, cradling it with the tips of his servos, taking a peek inside...

His spark span a little quick.

"What are you?" He puzzled at the creature inside. It was incredibly small, dwarfed by even the human inhabitants of this planet. It carried itself on four stubby legs, its entire frame wrapped in muscle and gunmetal grey fur... and its two darling, blue optics darted to and fro. By now, the frail thing was incredibly afraid. Megatron gently ushered it from the can into his palm. When the creature startled further and attempted to bolt, he brought his palm to a close, careful not to hurt it. "What are you?" He asked again, enamored.

~~

It took Megatron some curious prodding to determine how best to understand this creature he'd found. He realized that as an organic, it made sense that it would feed off other organics, so he scrounged what he could from his surroundings to try to feed the creature. Satisfying hunger was a strategy he'd used to rouse morale in favor of the Decepticons, so surely it would aid in befriending this tiny... fluff.

It was when he'd pulled a stack of vehicles apart that a pile of rodents went scurrying about, and the critter set about immediately in pursuit of them. Megatron was actually humored by its sudden sprightly performance. When it caught four – he was impressed. "You're quite the warrior," He mused. "You deserve a feast."

Another couple of creatures made their way from the junkyard's scrap heaps, each of them somehow lankier than the one he'd been watching. A mottled orange and white one, generously fluffy but also patchy and balding, and a tricolored one adorned in stripes. Megatron elated. He had no idea what these critters were, and he'd puzzled over what to call them for hours already, but now he had drawn the attention of more of them. Had they really been on Earth this whole time? They were oddly endearing! Almost frustratingly so. Megatron all but forgot that he came here to grieve.

He watched the mottled one lap at a collected pool of rainwater for a moment, curious. He wasn't actually sure what these creatures needed to survive, he was realizing, but he knew they'd been managing here on their own for some time. Perhaps, though, not very well... they were wearing thin.

"I won't be calling you little creatures such vague terms forever," He declared to them, while they seemed blissfully unaware and mostly unperturbed. "Henceforth, you shall need names."

He looked toward the tricolor, which had taken its spot atop a hood of a busted-up car, climbing in and out of interiors. He watched it intently. "You shall be Hunter," He muttered, "Always seeking a vantage point."

His attention turned back to the mottled orange, which lay by the water, bathing in the retreating rays of the afternoon sun. He recalled a nickname he'd heard on one of Soundwave's records; he'd encountered his old friend and longstanding enemy, Ratchet, that time. What was it the wrecker called the pushy little medic?

"Doctor... Sunshine," He mused, with a weighty laugh as he bestowed the name to the critter. "You look very much like him," He concluded.

Then, to his first encounter, the one that drew the attention of the warlord, to begin with, the lanky grey with the beady blue eyes. It proved its deftness quickly. It needed a warrior's name. Seeing as he wouldn't be needing his...

"You, my little warrior, shall be Megatronus." And so it was.

Megatron started to make changes in the junkyard; he'd begun moving rubble, robbing it from some areas and heaping it up in others; he was careful to keep it stable so that it wouldn't potentially crush his latest fixations. He wanted proper space to observe them, and a barricade to defend them from whatever else Earth's wildlife may be. He'd made himself an adequate space, a mostly-round arena that he could pace if he desired, though he kept his movements to a minimum while he watched the fluffs frolic and explore. Though they were initially terrified, they'd quickly become curious about their new landscape. Megatron pried metal and patched holes side-by-side so that they may climb through and around the towering walls if they desired. He was impressed by their maneuverability.

Not wanting to compromise their rainwater, he dug a small reservoir with a servo that would flood with any drainage. Recollecting organic lifeforms' reactions to energon, he deemed it best to make sure the rainwater stayed unpolluted from other chemicals, too, and so it was dug near the center of the space, away from the twisted metal vehicles with their potentially hazardous fuels and fluids.

He settled down for a moment. Megatronus had tucked herself away inside the walls, exploring the interiors of the cars and hunting for spoils. Doctor Sunshine was carrying himself to whichever dusty sunspot he wanted most. Hunter was...

Hm?

Hunter had escaped his sight, apparently. He worried; maybe she got underfoot or caught in the wreckage he'd been mounding up. Maybe she startled too deeply and took off. Maybe she-... oh. Nevermind. Hunter had brushed up against Megatron's pede, rolling her vocals in a way he'd never heard before. It sounded like a bird call, or a vocalizer stutter, but with a deliberate sweetness.

And then, she rattled rhythmically, a faint purr from within emanating from her frame. "By the Allspark." Megatron found that to be so sweet. He gently glided the tip of his servo across her head, and she leaned into it. It was unfair that these entities were so frail and small. He wanted them all, and he wanted them for Cybertron.

Ah... Cybertron.

He remembered his departure and disbanding, the oppression he faced as Unicron's puppet, the inevitable Antispark, the revival of his crystalline home planet...

How did he get here? With these creatures?

He... tried not to think about it. It was easier that way.