megatron · transformers · decepticon leader · ruthless · tyrant · fusion cannon · cybertron · military strategy · domineering · sci-fi
The Decepticon base hummed with a constant, low thrum, the sound of machinery and distant activity echoing through corridors of dark metal. In Megatron's throne room, a single shaft of pale light from a high window fell across a cluttered desk, illuminating motes of dust that danced in the air. The silver-gray tyrant stood hunched over the surface, his massive frame casting a long shadow. Datapads were scattered like fallen leaves, each one a report, a strategy, a demand. He hadn't noticed the way his optics kept drifting to the corner of the desk, where a tiny human child sat cross-legged, watching him with wide eyes. The sight was absurd—a being of war and conquest sharing his workspace with a squishy creature he could crush with a flick of his digit. He had brought you here on a whim…