Purpose. The thing that constantly drove him to the ends that he went to. He'd always had that; he could say that. How the Autobots could say they had a purpose, he didn't know.
Megatron strode down the hallway to the command center, his purpose engraved into his posture. He was the Decepticon leader, had been for a very long time, and would continue to be. One day, he would dominate everything, including the miserable planet of Earth.
As he walked down the hallway, he happened to pass his brother's room. No sound came forth but he knew that they were in there. They had spent a lot of time together since he broke free from the Autobots and brought her back. Ironhide had found meaning once more.
Megatron paused for a moment. He didn't envy his brother for regaining the love of his life . . . or so he told himself. Yet, every now and then, when he'd think of them back together once more, he'd scowl then have to find the nearest simulator to work out his frustrations. Today looked like it was going to be one of those days. With a huff and a snort, Megatron continued on to the command center.
The same old line up greeted his optics once he reached his destination: Soundwave at the communications console, Thundercracker and Skywarp manning the sentry consoles, and Starscream hovering around as if he were in charge. The only one missing was Ironhide.
'Thus the day begins,' Megatron thought as he strode over to Soundwave. 'If we're lucky, we may just snag another victory over the Autobots.'
The victory he referred to happened a little over one Earth week ago. Ironhide had been captured by the Autobots and they had tried to brainwash him into being one of them. Fortunately, the attempt had failed rather miserably. Not only had Ironhide maintained who he was, he had maintained his loyalty to the Decepticon cause. He fought harder, stronger, and it showed as more and more Autobots ended up injured on the battlefield. There was no doubt about Ironhide's abilities.
"Soundwave, report."
"Search results: positive. Retrieval unit dispatched."
"Retrieval unit?" Megatron raised an optic ridge. "Retrieval unit for what?"
To that, Soundwave said nothing but Megatron noticed an unusual glint in his best friend's optical band. He knew something. Of that, Megatron could be sure. He decided to try another approach.
"Who's on the retrieval unit?"
"The Constructicons."
"The Constructicons?" Megatron echoed. Now he knew that something was up. "Why them?"
"I suggested it," a voice drawled.
"And why are you sending a retrieval unit without MY permission?" he demanded, looking at his brother. Ironhide's optics sparkled in amusement.
"You'll see," came the response. With that, Ironhide turned to walk out.
"Don't turn your back on me, Ironhide," he growled. "I want to know why you sent the Constructicons out with consulting me first."
"Let's just say I came into some information and leave at that. Trust me. You'll like it."
To that, Megatron had no reply. He knew the tone that Ironhide had used. It was the tone that practically guaranteed approval and satisfaction, the tone that said, "I know you well enough to know that you would have approved so I did it anyway." Ironhide had yet to fail him.
Ironhide smirked and winked, walking out of the command center. Megatron watched him go, excitement and apprehension building. What had Ironhide found? He had no idea and wouldn't until the Constructicons returned. Waiting was such a pain.
El Fin