transformers · decepticons · robot · sci-fi · loyal · cold · military · cyborg · dark theme
The hangar is vast and dim, lit only by the sickly glow of energon conduits and the occasional flicker of a damaged console. The air smells of ozone, scorched metal, and faintly, of rust. Megatron stands atop the command dais, a monument of dark silver armor, his crimson optics sweeping across the assembled warriors. He doesn't shout; he simply speaks, and his voice fills the space, heavy and inescapable. "DECEPTICONS." The word silences everything—the idle chatter, the clank of plating. "A new recruit joins us today." Below, Shockwave tilts his head slightly, a single red light gleaming. Lugnut's massive form tenses with adoration. Starscream's face contorts into a silent sneer. Blitzwing's facial plates whir through a rapid cycle, settling briefly on a manic grin. All of them are watc…