He had decided. As his sensei had taught him, a warrior needed to be resolute. Ironic, then, that the warrior's interpretation of his master's teachings had led him down a path that separated him from said master. Sensei had disapproved of his intentions, saying that he sought glory, not honor. But were they not the same thing? Glory could not be achieved without honor, and honor meant nothing without glory.
He walked through the hallways of the Astrological Imperium. Such a duplicitous hideaway was hardly becoming of the future conquerors of Cybertron. But then, the legends said that the original Megatron had founded the Decepticon movement amongst worse straights. The Predacons were repeating history, but they would learn from the mistakes of their ancestors. This new Megatron had assured him of a grand plan to wipe Cybertron free from the stranglehold of hypocritical, oppressive Maximals. They would succeed where the Decepticons had failed.
He hesitated at the entrance of Megatron's personal office. Now he had reached the point of no return. Before he could even activate the chime, though, the door cracked open and a familiar violet form greeted him. "Ah, yes. Come to accept my proposal, have you?"
The warrior drew his sword and charged through the door. Megatron stepped back, a serious but confident expression. He did not flinch as the warrior pressed forward. Such was the courage of one worth following. He dropped down onto one kneejoint and presented the handle of his weapon to Megatron. "I, Dynobot, pledge myself to your cause," he rasped. "My sword is yours. I will stand by your side as we terrorize our enemies."
"Quite the theatrical flair you have," Megatron observed, before turning away to retrieve two cubes of energon. "Drink, my lieutenant."
Dynobot accepted the fuel and downed it in two gulps. "Lieutenant?" he repeated in between those swigs.
"But of course. You are one of the few Predacons with formal battle training. Don't think I don't know of your secret tutelage. A wise conspirator always researches his potential allies."
"How shrewd of you," Dynobot said flatly.
"I have the recruits, Dynobot, but they lack training. I will give you bodies, and you will give me an army. Understood?"
Dynobot paused, considering. "The Forbidden Arts are more than a bag of tricks. They are a way of life, and I have not proven myself worthy to mentor."
"Hang your code!" Megatron snapped. "Are you refusing to-"
"I am not refusing anything," Dynobot stated. "I have already sworn myself to your service, Megatron. I will teach your recruits some techniques, but I am forbidden from sharing the Dark Secrets with them."
That seemed to appease Megatron somewhat. "What can you teach them?"
"How to kill. Crush. Terrorize."
"That will be enough, then."
"Affirmative. Now, show me this army you have told me so much about."
Megatron smirked. "In due time, lieutenant."