Ok guys this is my first proper fanfic I've had the idea for awhile now, let me know what you think. The room is dark barely lit, the bristling lights of Iacon’s skyline acting to illuminate the room. I sit here, alone, high above the spires of Cybertron watching the world pass me by. I look out over the balcony, the skies of Cybertron are dark, they always are, only occasionally being lit up by the flash of lightning as if the planet itself still struggles to resist my rule. The throne is cold and foreboding, fit for a ruler, designed to intimidate and inspire awe, yet it feels alien to me, as if I should not be the one sitting here. Iacon is now a city moulded in my image: there is order, there is structure and there is strength. Those beneath me know their place and they live and die in the service of my name and for the greater glory of the Decepticon Empire. Here I sit and I think, it was different once, this monotonous existence was not how it always used to be. I only have to look down at my own body to see the signs of a thousand battles: the rusted metal, the scarred plating. We had been a race at war with ourselves. I had risen up from the depths of our society to fight for a better way, a way which rewarded strength over status or station, others flocked to me, either out of desire for their own personal gain or truly believing the future I spoke of, it did not matter as long as they fought in my name. The ruling class of Cybertron at the time, corrupt, greedy and self-centred, were no match for my new zealots and we ripped through them, only serving as further evidence, that Cybertron was rotten to the core and required a new power, a new figurehead to become strong again. Yet just when it seemed my victory was near, another rose up, like me, he fought for his own convictions and many joined his cause. His name was Optimus Prime and he opposed me at every turn. He was a worthy adversary who knew no fear, a true symbol of all that was good about our race: strong, wise, compassionate and incorruptible. His appearance caused the war to drag on for many centuries, both sides gaining the upper hand only to have the other snatch it back, the equilibrium of power never shifting for long. My hatred for him grew during that time and before I realised it, his mere existence had consumed my entire mind, my every thought dedicated to his destruction. But those days are long gone, Optimus Prime my most hated enemy, died by my own hands, it was an age ago but I still remember it like it was the last solar cycle: I watched as the last of his vital circuits and support systems gave out and as his optics met mine for the final time. At the time I was filled with pride and arrogance, vindication that I was right. That I would lead Cybertron and our race into a new age of conquest, that I would be the one to finally secure our race its rightful place in the galaxy, as its supreme rulers. The rest of the Autobots without their leader and spiritual symbol to guide them, quickly fell apart, some choosing to go down in a blaze of glory in some futile attempt to avenge their master, others choosing to hide in corners of the galaxy, like ghosts of an age past, constantly on the run and some even joining the Decepticon cause willingly and embracing our way of life, perhaps not all of Prime’s underlings were as noble as their leader. My train of thought is interrupted as reports filter through, as they often do, from Shockwave. He sends me news from the front, as detailed and analytical as one would expect from him, the more I read the more it begins to sound like massacre and genocide. With our enemies the Autobots vanquished and humanity all but eradicated, it seems nothing in this galaxy is capable of halting the advance of the deadly Decepticon war-machine, my troops wage war across a thousand planets, conquering in my name and destroying all who would oppose us… Yet I feel nothing, no pride from seeing this unstoppable movement, which I created, sweeping the galaxy like a cleansing flame. No satisfaction from the destruction of these lesser races as they struggle against us, as a hatchling does a warrior. I no longer feel anything. I begin to shun my own troops, they vie for my favour, spread across the galaxy, reeking havoc and destruction, hoping to earn my attention and be rewarded for their efforts, only concerned with their own petty personal advancement. They have no sight of the future, no sight of the greater goal, the centuries of warfare has changed them, shaped them into something entirely different, waging war is all they know now, only the thrill of battle momentarily fills the empty void inside their sparks, the same empty void which now threatens to consume me. Only Soundwave remains by my side, my ever faithful hound, he is dutiful and loyal. The human’s had a word for one such as he, it has long been since their time, but I believe it was “friend”. And that is why I have sent him away, on some fool's errand to Helex, lest he interfere, he was reluctant to leave me so unguarded but in a hundred year’s not one attacker has set foot on Iacon, let alone my throne room. I knew this would be the last time I would see him, but I did not give him the thanks he truly deserved, yet one more regret in a life long list of them. As I stand from my throne, my circuits feel faulty, my gears strained, I walk over to the familiar figure of Optimus Prime, he stands staring at me and I let a small smile escape my lips. My lifelong nemesis is before me, his hand outstretched, as if, he is about to offer some words of wisdom. “Soon old friend, soon” I say, the statue has no reply, it’s life like features betrayed by it’s lack of motion or audio. Soundwave had in a rare show of emotion, actually appeared genuinely shocked when I first told him of my desire for the statue, I knew he wondered whether I had glitches in my logic processor or was infected with a neural virus, but he knew better than to question my judgement and he had the finest sculptors from all of Cybertron brought here to create it. Was I wrong? I knew my would-be assassin was close, I could feel his presence in the lower levels already, did I do our race more harm than good? Did I kill the one transformer who was capable of leading us to greater glory? When my spark meets Primus will I be able to look him in the optic and tell him what I did was right? These questions have haunted my last cycles but soon I will know the answer. I had known about the plot to take my life for sometime now, the Autobot resistance had made contact with some over ambitious officers within my own ranks, eager to further their own interests, for my dissidents did not end with the late Starscream, they had hatched a plan to remove me. As if cutting the head off would make a difference now. This monster I had created could no longer be stopped, the Decepticon dominion had grown beyond any one transformer’s control, and another would simply rise to take my place, whether it be Shockwave, Razorclaw, Thunderwing or even Soundwave. The Decepticons were now an irresistible force rampaging across the galaxy who knew naught but to create chaos and destruction. Never the less I had let the Autobots scheme go ahead, using my own contacts to screen it from Soundwave and his spies, lest he interfere and discover it. And now I face atonement for my crimes. I see a shadow from the corner of my optic approaching from the balcony, the figure moves slowly, reluctantly, fear and adrenaline circuits functioning equally, he comes closer his weapon raised. “I have been expecting you Autobot, I know why you come, I have known all along. Come make it quick, do what you must”. The figure is initially seized with surprise, I could crush him in a micro second for showing such weakness but I let him compose himself, I sense anger overcoming his logic circuits. He draws closer and I quickly realise him as the Autobot Bumblebee: “You, you, you-SHUT UP! You killed them all, you killed Prime, you killed my friends, all of them are DEAD! BECAUSE OF YOU! You deserve to die Megatron!” the figure shouts fuelled only by intense anger and sorrow. His accusations are true, I did kill them and yet now I feel no better for it “Yes I did Bumblebee, and I damned for it, I know. Now do what you came to do, finish this and avenge your master”. “You should suffer Megatron, suffer for all eternity for what you did, death is too kind for you, may Unicron torment your spark forever” It is clear from the murderous intent in his optics that the past has not been kind to this Autobot, the death of his friends, the broken hope of all he believed in, the years of hiding in backwater planets, all of it has taken it's toll, for such an Autobot as him to be the one, I did not expect it. As Bumblebee raises his blaster preparing to fire, I feel a rush, for the first time since the Great War, my circuits are invigorated, to face death head on is an experience like no other, one which I had almost forgotten had felt like. “Very well Bumblebee hopefully in my death you will find some peace now be done wit-“ I feel the impact of the blaster hit home in my right optic, the pain sensors threaten to overcome me but I attempt to isolate my central processor from the pain, the second blasts partially incinerates my neck, leaving vocal circuits dangling exposed, I fall to my knees, face down staring at the cold metal floor, as vital energon fluid leaks from my mouth I can’t help but think after all this time, for my death to be so ignominious is a cruel irony of fate. I know my wounds are fatal already, my central processor is already malfunctioning, but I beckon the Autobot to end it “Finisssssh it” my voice is distorted, strained and weak. I feel Bumblebee stand above me the blaster aimed squarely at the back of my head, I attempt to look up at my attacker, to look squarely into his optics as Optimus did mine, but I lack the strength. “Farewell Megatron” he says with surprising compassion and pity in his voice, a sudden burst of anger flows through my circuits I want to rip out his vocal cords for showing such pity to the mighty Megatron, but no I am resigned to my fate. I hear Bumblebee’s finger tighten on the trigger and I brace what little control of my body is functioning for the blast and it comes…. I hear the thud of a body hit the ground, but it is not my own, the pain sensors wracking throughout my body remind me I am indeed still alive for the moment. Suddenly I feel a supporting hand on my back a figure crouches down “Megatron! Megatron!” It is Soundwave my ever loyal servant. He helps me too my feet supported by his shoulder, I see the broken body of Bumblebee lying on the floor, a clean shot to the head from Soundwave terminating him immediately. The alarm in Soundwave's voice is there for all to see “Megatron you have sustained extensive internal damage, repairs are required immediately”. I want to speak, to tell him this was my intention all along but my vocal unit has almost ceased to function, I merely manage to utter the words “no” and with the weakest of hand gestures point to the throne. Soundwave ever perceptive picks up on my instruction and he pauses for precious seconds as if realising the gravity of my decision, he is almost reluctant to comply but eventually relents “As you command Megatron”. Supported almost completely on his shoulder Soundwave guides me over to my throne, and helps me take my seat. I slouch back immdiately, my body now almost completely devoid of any control functions, I look up at Soundwave he appears frozen in his place unable to process the sight before him “Megatron…” is all he is able to mutter. With the last of my will I divert all my remaining power to my vocal unit “Soundwave, thank you-“ I feel the world before me go dark, and as my last thoughts run through my mind, I see figures waiting for me in the distant light “Optimus, Starscream, my old friends, I am coming”.