He stood rigidly at attention, doing his best to look like an ordinary, non-threatening U.S. soldier on guard duty. His helmet and gear hid the screws and servos that gave away the fact that he was an animatronic, not a flesh and blood human. No, he wasn't even an animatronic. He was… something else. Something a lot more dangerous.
Humans flocked around, passing him by, chattering in their slow language about inconsequential things such as plumbing, sexual relations, who was mad at who, and which football team was going to win Saturday's big game. He did not speak, nor was he spoken to. The humans mistook the frozen expression on his face as a mark of deep thought or personal trauma. They avoided him. Well, that was just fine. He wanted to rip out their organs anyway.
He was on a mission. He had collaborated with the former scientists of Itex, following his master's orders, and had achieved the appearance of a white human male with black hair and brown eyes. Instead of scanning a park attraction as his predecessor had done, he had acquired a unique, manufactured mechanical body that could look perfectly human… with a few minor design flaws, such as the metal joints and exposed screws here and there.
The Decepticon remained dutiful, standing at his post, biding his time.
Soon.
Marian Janssen paced in a circle, her stiff blonde hair combed out straight. She cast nervous glances at the laptop that sat at her desk. Finally a low chime sounded and she sat, ready to do what she did best: business.
The screen went blank, then a strange image filled the box. Marian stared at the jagged, angular alien visage. She didn't recognize this one. She had only seen the one called Starscream during previous communications. This one looked more dangerous, if that was possible. And familiar. Wasn't this the one who had broadcasted the demand for some American kid? Her gut twisted. She had a feeling she was looking at the fearsome leader of the Decepticons himself.
"Marian Janssen," a sinister, booming voice intoned. "You… requested a meeting with me?"
"Yes, I did." Marian allowed a hint of anger in her voice. "I want to know how you're going to pay me for all these units you're assimilating into your ranks. They do take a lot of time and money to produce." She was talking about the robotic Erasers, the ones that could fly. After Maximum Ride and the Flock led a crusade to destroy Itex's might, there was a limited supply of "Flyboys" left; Marian was a bit disgruntled by the fact that the Decepticons liked to "take" instead of "trade".
"Whatever are you talking about?" Megatron growled.
"You got me out of prison. You set me up here in the middle of nowhere, where I can manage my projects in peace. But I still must demand that you recompense me for every Eraser you claim for yourself."
"How naïve," Megatron sneered. Marian's hackles rose.
"You see, Marian, you do not understand the true implications of the situation. Let's look at the facts. You are a pulp-filled, fragile, grasping insect; I am a god, a god forged of steel and ambition. You are completely at my mercy. You are in no position to demand anything."
"I don't understand," Marian mumbled. Real fear, fear she hadn't felt since Max almost dropped her to her death, froze her blood.
"You don't have to," Megatron hissed.
Right then, the laptop went blank. It then transformed into a horrifying, cat-sized mechanical monstrosity with blazing red eyes. It flung itself at Marian's head, slicing into her skull before she could even scream.
Megatron received the confirmation that Janssen was dead and filed it away for future reference. One insect down, many more to go. He sent a query to Soundwave regarding the other hidden insect "leaders" who were doing business with the Decepticons. Soundwave's reply was brief and to-the-point: they were cooperating splendidly. They were more intelligent that Janssen was… had been.
Now he would have full control of her robotic soldiers. They had so many flaws he considered them to be trash, but they were worth utilizing. Decepticons could improve and revolutionize the pathetic technology. It would be no great effort to do so. They were totally obedient and capable of great destruction; they were expendable tools. Useful expendable tools.
His army would soon be ready.