(Author's Note: So I've recently fallen in love with Transformers: More than Meets the Eye. Which means I have to cross over other things I love with it. That's just how it works.

This will probably be one of a series of fics taking place in this scenario, possibly including the incident that leads the Reds and Blues here in the first place. (Though it is alluded to in this fic.) It's largely an excuse for me to let the characters interact and bounce off each other, so don't expect anything too plot-heavy ala Not Your War.

This takes place in the middle of Season 3 of Red vs Blue (thanks to that bomb) and shortly after the Elegant Chaos/time travel arc of More Than Meets the Eye. Tex and Lopez were not blasted to the Lost Light, but they may show up in a later fic.

Scale will likely be a little off because this is Transformers.)

Chapter One
Blue Team, Difficulty: Moderate

Most of the armored organics ignored Megatron. Either his appearance intimidated them or his reputation preceded him. Since the humans (who would never stand for being called organics, and he would have to stop himself from calling them "puny") were soldiers of some kind, and the maroon one eagerly followed the even bigger Ultra Magnus around like an eager-to-please shadow when he wasn't with the orange one, he suspected it was the latter.

That was fine with him. He wore an Autobot symbol now of his own choice, and part of that meant tolerating organic species. Captain or not, he was realistically in no position to protest their stay more than he had. Rodimus and Magnus would hear none of it. Rodimus liked the humans, for some blasted reason. Which meant Megatron had to put up with them.

He didn't have to like them. Slag, that wasn't in the Autobot code, was it? Much as he wondered what Orion saw in a race of short-lived, shortsighted, pathetically fragile creatures, he didn't really want to find out.

So why wasn't this red one leaving him alone?

Megatron did his best to avoid optic contact with the human's helmet as he passed him in the halls of the Lost Light. It did no good. The red-armored human would stare at him with defiance reflected in his head tilt. No matter that the helmets hid the unpleasantly squishy human face. Megatron spent thousands of years learning the particular body language the far more stoic Shockwave used and reading his emotions. Compared to an Empurata victim, a faceless human was an easy read.

"Red," who according to Rodimus had a name Megatron couldn't be bothered to remember, would stop and watch Megatron pass. He would gesture to his eyes, and then point at Megatron in the classic 'got my eye on you' manner. And he wouldn't say anything.

It wasn't as if the human couldn't talk. Red was easily one of the loudest space marines, a feat commendable in its sheer implausibility. (Didn't these organics rely on air drawn into bundles of membrane sacs to talk? How did most of them not explode and collapse from the force of shouting?) And obviously Red wanted to challenge Megatron in some manner over something. But he wouldn't say a thing to Megatron directly.

And Megatron couldn't lower himself to ask what this idiot could possibly want of him. He dealt with ridicule and glares from his crew, all of them completely understandable and expected, every day. This was nothing. No, he would ask the only marine he deemed worth a conversation.

"You," he said in his reserved-but-authoritative tone, tapping the light blue marine on the shoulder.

"HeeEEYYY," the robot said in a voice that seemed to go up several octaves when he stared up at Megatron. "It's, uh, you're the-the murdery guy. The other one. Whirl has one eye, right? Yeah, so that's, uh, you. How's it going? Not gonna murder anyone, right?"

"It was not on the schedule," Megatron said, keeping his tone even and reminding himself he earned that question. "I have something to ask you. You are Church, correct?"

"Leonard Church, yeah." He was standing stiff and awkward, fidgeting. What was the point of giving a mechanical body such human-like movements? "God, you're all so fucking big. What's with that?"

"I believe I said I would ask a question, not answer-"

"It's Primus's design! Or something, I guess. Hey, Church!" The 'co-captain' of the Lost Light and spiritual leader of the quest to find the Knights of Cybertron cut right in front of Megatron and held up his palm in what Megatron dimly understood as a "high five." Church returned it with a soft clanking sound.

Megatron dimmed his optics for a second. "Rodimus. Hello. I was just going to speak with the, I believe you are designated Blue Leader?"

"I'm the C.O., yeah. For what it's worth when we're not actually fighting each other. Which is, uh, pretty often," Church admitted, looking between the two captains.

"Right, yeah! Blue and red and green and stuff! You got that-that thing going on, that really important thing. Speaking of important things!" Rodimus grabbed Megatron's arm and gave it a tug. "We co-captains here just gotta talk about something real quick. Important captainy stuff. You'd know too! That's your rank, right?"

"Uh," Church started, but Rodimus didn't wait for an answer. He kept tugging Megatron out into the hallway like a turbofox dragging prey. The Autobot was tilting his head towards the doorway and frowning.
Megatron would never have tolerated this from Starscream.

He sighed, fingers to forehead, and nodded. "Excuse us, Church."

Once they were out in the hallway and presumably out of Church's hearing range, Megatron took the chance to glare at Rodimus. "What exactly was that for? Did you just seek to undermine my authority for no reason? I was not threatening that Earthling, no matter how panicked he and his soldiers act in my presence. I have done nothing wrong."

"I know, I know," Rodimus said as he held up his hands, "but there's something I need to tell you about that guy."

"He's some manner of artificial intelligence in a human-scale robot body. I know. He's giving off energy readings similar to a drone. But he acts as if he's as sentient as we are."

"I know you know," Rodimus whispered, "but he doesn't!"

"...What? How can one not know what one is?" Megatron snapped his head towards the doorway and glared. "Are the humans keeping it from him?"

Rodimus shrugged. "I don't think they are. Look, humans are weird. Humans from another dimension? Have to be at at least twice as weird."

"He must not consume carbon, breathe, or defecate." Megatron forced down a shudder at that last word. "His body is obviously mechanical."

In a feat worthy of grudging admiration, Rodimus managed to shrug harder. "He seems to think he's a ghost. Like a human ghost. In a robot."

"Do they have ghosts?" Megatron stopped himself and shook his head. "Wait. I don't care. He has a right to know what he is. Are the organics keeping his nature secret from him in order to threaten his self-determination?"

"Look, I know how you feel about humans, organics, whatever. But the others genuinely seem to believe in the ghost thing. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but these squadrons? Not exactly a brain trust."

Megatron narrowed his optics. "It could be an act."

"I mean, maybe? I guess? But either way, that's something to work out later," Rodimus said. "Rung thinks if Church finds out the truth all at once, it'd be too much of a shock to him. Your identity's a big deal. Do you really want a human-made AI of dubious quality having a nervous breakdown on our ship?"

It still struck Megatron as a great injustice, to let this being continue to think he was an organic. Uncomfortable enough that the humans had an artificial intelligence working alongside them, treated like a common soldier. But if honesty would do him harm at this time, as Rung seemed to think, Megatron would wait.

"Fine," he sighed. "I will avoid the subject. But I have a right to talk to someone on my ship."

"Not your ship," Rodimus protested and then snorted. "I'm serious, Megatron. Be nice to the squishies or Ultra Magnus will hear about it. And he will read you the entire Autobot code regarding the treatment of sentient beings, in that monotone of his, for hours."

Megatron peered over the smaller robot's shoulders. "Speaking of, one of the humans is stuck in a ceiling vent."

"I FOUND A LOT OF PIPES HERE," the dark blue-clad human shouted from down the hall. "They look all tangled up. Do you need me to straighten them out?"

Rodimus stiffened, chuckled nervously and spun around, muttering 'slagging' something-or-other under his breath as he stalked towards the loose ceiling vent cover. That gave Megatron a chance to find Church again, hopefully without interruption.
He was still there at Swerve's bar, thankfully, this time joined by the aqua-colored one. The orange one who was almost always there seemed to have wandered off. This was fortunate. Orange was a member of Red's team, and might not want to divulge information out of loyalty to his leader.

"Whoa," said Aqua, staring up at Megatron's silhouette. "I thought Swerve said you never come in here."

"Almost never." Megatron tried his best to hide the disdain in his voice. No, that was a lie; he put the minimal effort into hiding it. "Bars are a little unruly for my tastes."

"Yeah, he prefers starting wars," Swerve muttered under his breath. "Hey, Tucker! What'd I tell ya? Did I get the good stuff or did I get the good stuff?"

Tucker, who by elimination must have been the aqua one, sat with his helmet off and held a tiny Energon cube with a curly straw. "Uh, yeah dude. This, um. This sure is water. Filtered water."

Swerve grinned, making finger-guns at Tucker. "Guaranteed not to kill you according to Ratchet. Nothing but the best for my customers!"

Church, naturally, didn't have a drink at all. Presumably his body ran off solar energy or a stored battery. "Yeah, the fucking warlord keeps trying to talk to me for some reason."

"Well, he's got something to say, he can say it in front of the rest of us." Tucker shot a brief defiant glare up at Megatron.

Naturally the humans wouldn't trust him. Not if they heard about the war, which they would have had to by now. Certainly not if they knew anything about this dimension's Earth and the actions of the Decepticons there. His actions.

Megatron did Tucker the courtesy of a bowed head and held up his hands. "I will do him no harm. No harm will come to any of you while you are here."

That didn't seem to satisfy Tucker. He just kept glaring. "Okay, big guy. What's so important to ask us about?"

Aware that Church was letting another speak over him, Megatron shelved any criticisms already forming of the Blue leadership.,"It is about your presumed enemy."

"Enemy?" Church startled. "Is Wyoming here? Holy fuck, please tell me you don't have Freelancers aboard. With giant robot friends."

"Freelancers? No, I meant the Red leader."

Tucker squinted. "Oh, Sarge? Don't tell me you made enemies with Sarge."

"Should I be concerned if I have?" Megatron asked.

"Only that he'll never leave you the fuck alone. Everything's somehow a Blue plot. Like, half this time since Wyoming showed up I kinda forgot about the teams," Church admitted.

"Cuz the teams are fake," Tucker interjected. "I keep telling you!"

Church just waxed his hand. "Yeah yeah, the whole fake war Illuminati bullshit you keep going on about."

"Because it's true!"

Church ignored this (alarming, in Megatron's opinion) assertion. "Sarge just does not let things go. Ever."

Megatron stood up straight. "I will not harm you intentionally, but I have the right to defend myself if one of you challenges me."

"Defend yourself?" Church laughed and covered his face. "You're taking him so seriously. Sarge is pretty good in a fight but not like, singlehandedly take down a giant robot warlord guy good."

"You should just like, flick him." Tucker demonstrated with his hand against the empty cube, knocking it across the bar. "Actually, you know what? Do that anyway."

Megatron blinked. "What?"

"God, that'd be hilarious. I would pay to see Mr. Killer Robot Dude just like, tape Sarge to the ceiling. I will film it if you do. Tucker, please tell me we have a camera."

Megatron was beginning to think the humans were not taking his concerns seriously.

"Do it," Tucker said with a grin. "Just like get some alien giant robot duct tape...wait." The grin vanished. "If he challenges you? If?"

"Wait, so he hasn't tried to kill you or blow you up yet?" Church stared up at Megatron with his faceless helmet.

"Why did you think he has? You did not even let me explain what I wanted to know about him or why."

"We just kind of assumed. That's kind of what he does. That and build robots," Tucker said with a shrug. "Has he at least threatened you with a long-winded Foghorn Leghorn rant?"

"He has not spoken to me more than necessary. In fact, he has barely spoken a word to me at all," Megatron said. "He is silent."

That merited a weighted pause from both the human and the android.

"Sarge. Has been. Silent," Church managed with obvious effort.

"He watches me. He glowers under his helmet. While he has as little reason to trust me as any of you, it is obvious he wants me to see him as a threat." Megatron could share neither the humans' irritating humor, nor their latter confusion. Did they not understand an unspoken challenge when they saw one?

"Okay. That, uh. That's weird." Church rested his helmet on his chin. "That's super weird. I don't think I've seen that guy silent ever. Ever."

"Maybe he has a crush on you," Tucker said.

This prompted both Church and Megatron to stare at him for a full ten seconds.

"Look, I'm just saying! Dude seems to be really enthusiastic about Lopez. He really likes machines, like a lot. And he loves guns, and you have a huge gun. Bow chicka-nope, sorry, I'm not gonna say it about a shitty space warlord. Can't do it."
"What the fuck," Church mumbled.

As for Megatron, he would not even dignify that with a response. (A Cybertronian and a human? Were such things possible? He had no desire to find out.) "I will find his own team, then. They must know him better."

"Yeah! Go find the red and orange guys who are elsewhere! As in not in my bar," Swerve declared cheerfully, looking pointedly up at Megatron. "You're scaring off patrons who wanna see the humans."

"I'm just saying, you gotta keep an open mind with aliens. I mean, have you seen that purple chick? Maybe she likes short guys," Tucker said as he held out his cube. "Hey, Swerve! Can I get a refill? And are you sure you don't have anything stronger than water?"

Swerve shrugged. "I did manage to acquire a little distilled stuff, but I didn't know how much humans hold. You're all small. Grif finished off the last of it."

"So that's why he's not at the bar," Church said. "I was wondering if he was like, dead or something."

It seemed the patrons had already decided the conversation was over, so Megatron turned to leave. He glanced over his shoulder one more time at the blue leader, working against the instinct to pull him aside and tell him. You are not what you think you are. You may be in more danger than you realize. You are being deceived.

Instead, he gave him a more subtle warning. "As leader, it is your duty to know your enemy inside and out. It may someday save your life."

As he stomped out, forcing down his frustration, he heard Tucker shout after him. "I told you, it's fake!"