Author's note

This story is based on Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol. It is very OoC, and is by no means part of my personal head canon. I simply wanted to write some sort of Christmas special, and this was the best idea I had. I am trying to emulate his writing style, while still keeping my own, so please excuse anything that seems rather odd for my stories.

Based in the world of Transformers: Prime.

Merry Christmas 2018!

Part 1- Skyquake's ghost

Skyquake was offline; there could be no doubt that he was, and he had been for a full seven months. Everyone knew it, and Megatron was no exception. In fact, it was likely that he was better aware of this fact than most of his troops- save Soundwave, who had been witness to the entire event in the first place- as Skyquake had been one of his most loyal warriors.

Now, the only reason that I mention this is that it will be of importance later on, though not yet; but it is best to say this now.

Megatron himself was an ill-tempered old mech, and hard to please- a fact that Starscream knew all too well- and it could not be said that he was in any mood even remotely resembling the Christmas spirit, despite the fact that it was Christmas Eve, and his troops were, for the most part, of merry dispositions and attempting to put some Christmas cheer into his day- much to his chagrin- and they were failing quite miserably at the task that they had given themselves.

"Merry Christmas, sir!" Breakdown called as he headed to his quarters.

"Bah humbug!" Megatron returned, stomping towards his own room, grumbling about the inconvenience of Christmastime and the other Decepticons' attempt at celebrating it.

When Megatron arrived at his room and went to open the door, something strange, even by his standards, happened. Skyquake's face appeared on the keypad that deactivated the lock and opened the door, but as he stared, bewildered, at the apparition, it disappeared, as quickly as it had come. He blinked and shook his head, narrowing his optics. He typed in the security code, pressing each button a little harder than usual. He sat heavily down on his berth, growling at the nonsense of the humans' holiday.

Megatron glanced up as, without warning, a metallic clanking noise, as of that created by the rattling of an iron chain being towed over the metal floors, seemed to come from the hall. He watched the door with a bored expression, wondering what sort of ludicrous Earth tradition his troops had picked up that involved wandering the hallways when they ought to be recharging; from what he had overheard them talking about earlier that day, it went against one of the primary Christmas traditions, which they had said was getting to bed early so they could get up early on Christmas, and something about a 'Santa Claus' coming down the chimney with gifts- not that they had a chimney, or were deserving of such presents (or were even likely to receive any)- but Megatron didn't know what it all meant, neither did he care to find out. But he did care to find out who was behind the racket in the hall, and severely punishing them for disturbing the peace of the middle of the night. His optics flew open wide when the ghostly figure of Skyquake shuffled through the still shut (and tightly locked) door, wrapped in a long, heavy chain that trailed behind him, clanking with every move he made.

"How now!" said Megatron. "What do you want with me?"

"Much!" It was Skyquake's voice, there was no doubt of it.

"Who are you?" Megatron did recognize the specter, but he would not believe appearances alone, especially when said appearances were impossible, because Skyquake, as mentioned before, had been dead for seven months.

"Ask me who I was," the phantom replied.

"Who were you, then?" Megatron asked, raising his voice. "You're particular, for a shade."

"In life I was your soldier, Skyquake. But you don't believe in me, do you?"

"I don't, and with good reason."

"And what reasons might those be?"

"That you have been offline these past seven months, and thus it is impossible that you are here, speaking with me, at this moment."

"And is that the only reason?"

"You are likely a figment of an ill-processed cube of Energon. There is nothing more real about you than this 'Santa' figure that my troops have been on about lately."

"You are wrong, sir; I am real, and I have come to deliver a message."

"And what would that be?"

"I wear the chain I forged in life. I made it link by link and yard by yard; I wore it of my own free will. Do you know the weight and length of the coil you bear yourself? It was as heavy and long as this over seven centuries ago. You have labored on it since, and quite the chain it has become!"

Megatron glanced at the floor, half expecting to see a chain such as the one that Skyquake had described; he could see nothing. "Skyquake!" he rumbled. "Tell me no more! Speak comfort, if you would speak at all."

"I have none to give. It is conveyed by other sources, to other kinds of mechs. And that which I might say I cannot. But I have come here to warn you." Skyquake stared into Megatron's optics as he continued, "You still have a chance, Lord Megatron, of escaping my fate. Three spirits will visit you tonight."

"More spirits? I would rather not."

"It is your only chance. Expect the first when the clock strikes one." Without any further warning, or even a goodbye, Skyquake walked out the door again, leaving Megatron to ponder his words alone in the darkness of his room.

Megatron shook his head and huffed. "Ghosts, spirits, visitations… Bah humbug!" He lay back on his berth, determining to forget that this ever happened. He closed his optics, and drifted into a fitful recharge.

Author's note

Some of the dialogue is the same as in the actual story, but I had to change a lot of it to fit in the Transformers universe.

Expect the next chapter tomorrow!