It had irked him, coming here, being back on an earth that, as long as he was human, did not even hold the promises of resources to covet. It had irked him, being weak, lacking in everything that he had worked so hard to gain over millenia. I had irked him...
...But he was still Megatron.
No simple twist of fate could completely offset him...no. Not him. And he had risen, building off of less than nothing once again, determined to bind this world and make it his if so much else had been denied to him. He knew how humans worked, what they thought, what they desired, how he could manipulate them into wanting exactly what he told them to want until they slaved for him and did not even wonder.
He would have everything.
It was only a matter of time, and patience, and oh had he learned patience.
The skill helped, too.
Yet as he built he knew that something had been lacking...an ever-present thorn in his side that initially wasn't there, that he'd almost forgotten he could miss and only noticed in its absence.
Starsceam.
Granted, he appreciated not having to watch his back every living moment for a while, relishing briefly the ability to sleep and dream while letting his thoughts wander. It was blissful, for a time.
And then, the dreams had ended. The thorn had turned into a seed, sprouting up more prickly vines where he hadn't noticed them without even the benefit of roses to off-set the pain. His old lieutenant was adapting, and it would not do to let him go unchallenged.
So he built armies.
It was under human terms, and often the arena was in politics itself, his base forming in Chicago and slowly spreading through the Midwest. He promised change…advancement…the chance for those who excelled to not endure mundane trivialities… And so he gave them change, but kept them human, advancing their genetics but letting them have the forms they seemed to revel in so much. It wasn’t even noticeable in the beginning, and by the time it was he’d already had the laws against it written off the system.
He’d found others, like himself, and renewed vows taken long ago to the Decepticon ideal…even finding an old friend who had been exceptionally valuable with insight into Starscream’s plans. There were still losses…
…some of them still pained him.
…but what he hadn’t taken then he would assimilate upon his victory. All would be one.
no subject
...But he was still Megatron.
No simple twist of fate could completely offset him...no. Not him. And he had risen, building off of less than nothing once again, determined to bind this world and make it his if so much else had been denied to him. He knew how humans worked, what they thought, what they desired, how he could manipulate them into wanting exactly what he told them to want until they slaved for him and did not even wonder.
He would have everything.
It was only a matter of time, and patience, and oh had he learned patience.
The skill helped, too.
Yet as he built he knew that something had been lacking...an ever-present thorn in his side that initially wasn't there, that he'd almost forgotten he could miss and only noticed in its absence.
Starsceam.
Granted, he appreciated not having to watch his back every living moment for a while, relishing briefly the ability to sleep and dream while letting his thoughts wander. It was blissful, for a time.
And then, the dreams had ended. The thorn had turned into a seed, sprouting up more prickly vines where he hadn't noticed them without even the benefit of roses to off-set the pain. His old lieutenant was adapting, and it would not do to let him go unchallenged.
So he built armies.
It was under human terms, and often the arena was in politics itself, his base forming in Chicago and slowly spreading through the Midwest. He promised change…advancement…the chance for those who excelled to not endure mundane trivialities…
And so he gave them change, but kept them human, advancing their genetics but letting them have the forms they seemed to revel in so much. It wasn’t even noticeable in the beginning, and by the time it was he’d already had the laws against it written off the system.
He’d found others, like himself, and renewed vows taken long ago to the Decepticon ideal…even finding an old friend who had been exceptionally valuable with insight into Starscream’s plans. There were still losses…
…some of them still pained him.
…but what he hadn’t taken then he would assimilate upon his victory. All would be one.
“Come face me, Starscream.” He had texted.
“…if you have the ‘guts.’”