May you grow up to be righteous, May you grow up to be true, May you always know the truth And see the lights surrounding you. May you always be courageous, Stand upright and be strong ---Bob Dylan

Who I am? Who was I? I am not who I once was, no matter who I am now. What part of me is truly mine own and what is his? Does he truly exist anymore?

Do I?

I have always been a leader, whether it was of men or machines, always craved the power over others on some level. But I remember entering politics because I thought I could change the world, make it a better, safer place. If it meant subverting my own soul, if it meant making choices which, while wrong, would lead to a better good in the end, I was prepared to do it.

I knew the Transformers would bring ruin to our world. It was why I had to get rid of them. When Galen and his allies bonded with them, I knew it would only bring more conflict. They may well have fought to protect our world, but the damage caused in such a war, however unintentional, was present none-the-less.

I had to protect our world. I had to protect Llyra.

Llyra. I haven't thought about her...in far too long. My daughter. Why haven't I thought about her? She who was once my everything, now, now I cannot even remember what color her hair was, what color her eyes were, the sound of her voice—all lost to me.

Worse, I cannot even remember her mother at all. I cannot remember when we met, where we went on our first date, or when we were married. I cannot even remember when Llyra was born...

More of my memories belong to him. I can remember rising to power on Cybertron, learning about off-world creatures and adapting my... his... alternate form to resemble one he found particularly deadly. I remember killing my first Autobot, ripping his body apart with my bare claws. I can recall scrapping for power with a fanatic named Thunderwing and a blustering fool named Straxus. I remember finding two warriors far beyond any known on Cybertron and taking them into my command.

I remember meeting myself, threatening to tear myself apart. I can remember being terrified as he threatened to squeeze the life out of my body; yet still somehow calm and rational, offering up myself, thinking how it might well save my world, if my will was strong enough.

And so I became a Headmaster. I reveled in the strength of my new form, reveled in the enhancements made to my body, the new skills I would use to destroy the Autobots.

I nearly killed Llyra that day. Perhaps that is why I no longer remember her. Perhaps I do not want to.

I used my will that day, let down the last of my guard and bonded with him, became one, as the bond was meant to be. I gave Galen the chance to escape our planet, to insure he would finally flee, because I knew the Decepticons would follow.

I changed, became more blood-thirsty, more power-hungry. I lusted, not for political power, not for some cause I thought was truly right, but for simple want of power—to rule the universe, to hold it in my claws and decide if I wanted to hold it like a fine ice sculpture, or crush it into fine dust.

I killed Galen, a man I once loved like a son. ...He got in my way....his way, and I was but along for the ride.

I dream of a metal world I have never set foot upon. I command warriors I have never known, yet understand as though I had known them for eons. I had never so much as struck another, but now recall a lifetime of never- ending battle.

I wish to be unstoppable, but feel uncertain, bound by the frailties of flesh. I despise Optimus Prime, but envy the way he gathers followers and trust so easily. I do not fear those who plot my demise, for I am unstoppable, yet I am almost crippled by fear of death.

I am supreme in a land of weaklings.

I am but a man in a land of metal giants.

I wish to dominate everything, I feel this in my soul, yet I cannot expel the sense of wrongness this brings.

I am invincible, yet among the walking wounded, my heart forever torn asunder by his sting.

I am he and he is me and we are but one forever divided.