Chapter 1 - Move

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Hello everyone! This story is most likely going to be a train wreck, but why not give it a go? No harm in trying. I mean- this story has been sitting in my notes for almost a year and a half now, so I hope someone reads it that's not me.

Plus, I've found that there's basically no stories for my man Megatron out there! It's absurd! 

Any who, please enjoy my word vomit! And I love comments and feedback!

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There was no time to think about what he had done. Not even a nanoklik.

Everything happened so fast and so slow all at once. Surely his spark must've been knocked from his form. He wasn't sure anymore.

All he knew was that he scanned the first large vehicle his optics landed on and took off, leaving everything behind in a heaping pile of ruble and destruction.

He was in no shape to continue fighting. By Primus, it was a miracle his spark still pulsed.

They did not follow him for long, and that, he was thankful for. He had no specific destination in mind, just away.

As far as he could carry himself.

He needed time; a few cycles to recuperate and figure out a plan of action. By the pits, this was not the end.

Several state lines later the effects of war were catching up with him. He was traveling slower than he'd like and a desperate recharge was in order.

It had been like that for almost a year. Move, move, move. No place was safe and it wasn't that he couldn't protect himself, but he was on his last servos.

The sun would soon set and another joor would come to an end, and still, he was moving.

Megatron felt like death on wheels as he crossed over the state line of, what Humans called, Texas.

A stupid name for a chunk of dirt.

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Lauren huffed as she slid out from under the vintage car she had so graciously been endowed. In all honesty, it was a piece of crap, junk if you will, but that wouldn't deter her. It was a beautiful vehicle, a 1956 Oldsmobile Super 88, to be specific. Rust and the elements had long overtaken the classic vehicle. Oh well, it wasn't like she had much else to do and Mr. Jenkins from down the way didn't need her help at the moment. If worse came to worse, she could scrap the interior and sell the body. Lord knows she could use the extra cash.

It'd go for a pretty penny. Especially for a collector. She wiped her hands clean of dirt as she got to her feet. It'd go for a pretty penny if she could make it look presentable. Things weren't looking promising, but hey, she could at least say she tried. That had to count for something, right?

The radio's soft thrum in the background could be heard. She hummed to the song absent mindedly as she wandered over to her tool box in search of her lug wrench. The wheels wouldn't take themselves off, no matter how much she begged.

"Alright this next song goes out to all the people who've dealt with alien scum! This is our planet, and our home God damnit! This next one is for all you brave souls out there!" The obnoxious voice of the radio host cut though the air as the beginning chords of a Green Day song began.

Lauren rolled her eyes as she suspended the car. A bead of sweat trickled down her face as she adjusted the car jacks.

The stagnate air of the large barn-turned-workshop was almost suffocating with the Texan heat. Sooner or later she'd have to fix her fan.

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