The Next Generation

C16: Send Him a Message

The news channel continued playing. It was background noise for most of the people in the bar as they continued chatting with one another, laughing at someone or whispering in darkened corners. It was a shady bar with security that was only meant to keep out those who upheld the law. This was a place for lowlife criminals with no real conviction.

Sometimes, big people did come through, but they never stayed long. They had their reasons.

Megatron leaned back in his chair, red optics glowing in the dimly lit room, and watched as the news lady enthusiastically explained a recent attack on the nation's most famous hero academy. For the most part, it didn't interest him. Megatron always perked up at news of villains actually doing something bold, or when it had to do with that All Might fellow. He was a silly character that Megatron could help but scoff at.

The greatest hero of this planet couldn't compare to Optimus Prime.

The school did their best to withhold information about their students, who were minors, but with a school as popular as UA, most of the students there were already documented as rising stars. The media went on and on about the plot to assassinate All Might, the teacher that had nearly died, and the first year students who had the initiative to jump in the fight.

Of course, they didn't word it like that. Cybertron or Earth, the media was always the same cynical wolves, jumping at exposed flesh and ripping out every chunk they could reach. They blamed the school for the attack, claiming they should have been more prepared. The teachers should have prioritized student safety.

Megatron rolled his optics and set down the glass he'd been drinking. There was nothing of—

"—Optimus Prime—"

He froze at the name, optics shooting back up to the screen. There was a short clip playing, showing a video that a reporter must have just barely managed to catch. A group of about five students walked past, into another building, and then a man got in front of the camera, telling the reporter to back off.

Megatron wouldn't have given four of those students a second glance, but one of them burned their way into his processor. Red and blue metal armour, energon leaking down their servo, audio receivers bent over in shame, and bright blue optics flashing briefly. An unrecognizable human body, but features that were unmistakable. A name that wasn't Japanese in origin, but of significant importance to any Cybertronian.

"Rewind the television," Megatron ordered, standing up from his seat and looking at the bartender. "Now."

"Excuse me?" the man sneered. "Who do you think you're talking to?"

Megatron approached him. "Keiko Himaru, former drug lord, at least before All Might scared you into the shadows. Your quirk can shoot poisonous needles that result in a chemical reaction when in contact with red blood cells. I know who you are, and I don't care. Rewind the television unless you want to find out who I am."

Himaru glared, but he couldn't help shivering at the brutal, dark nature of the man in front of him. Despite the fear, he raised his hand and let out a barrage of small needles. Megatron didn't move, letting them stab into his chassis and the poison seeped into his skin.

The barkeeper laughed. "Well, that's the end of you, huh?"

Megatron stalked forward, optics dark. "I won't repeat myself."

The laugh faltered, and the man looked down at Megatron's chassis. "Uh..."

Megatron's servo snapped forward, over the counter, and he grabbed the man around the throat. His sharp digits dug into the sides of his neck and blood trickled down his collar. He screeched as Megatron pulled him over the counter, causing a few glasses to fall off and shatter on the floor. Megatron threw him across the room and he slammed into the far wall with a sickening crack.