II. Portion


For the three hundred and sixty fifth time, the Earth star peeked through the mountains once more.

It had been months, in Earth time at least, since his defeat.

The warlord had been counting the solar and lunar cycles that had passed since the failure of bringing his planet back to its former glory. Keeping track of how long he had gone into hiding amongst the dirtball of a planet.

It was a miracle how he hadn't lost his processor to madness from his isolation when he went into hiding.

The human-loving Prime, traitor to his species as he chose these organics over the survival of Cybertron, would have slain his helm clean off of his form had the warlord not retreated. Courage and bravery were something Megatron prided himself off of, yet he had been reduced into a state of cowardice.

Pathetic.

And thus, he finds himself stuck within the Northern side of this wretched planet, and—much to his relief—an area that had seemed to be abandoned.

Solitude was taking its toll on him; slowly but surely.

Megatron is aware of that.

Yet solitude offered him survival and so he had accepted the idea of remaining here.

Out of sight and out of detection.

He had guessed that his soldiers had all been slaughtered by these mere insects or perhaps—hopefully—they went into in hiding and Megatron dare not try to send out a signal for it might be used tor track him down.

His cloaking abilities can only do so much.

On his way, he had stumbled upon three sparklings. Seekers, judging from the small wings that protruded from their back.

Their armor has yet to be developed which made them more vulnerable.

And despite slaughtering countless foes that were stupid enough to stand in his way, Megatron had decided to take them with him. Who would care for them? Their carrier and sire were probably captured by those pesky humans.

He had caught wind of a group that called themselves Cemetery Wind not too long after the fall of the Autobots and humans' alliance.

Their goal was to capture Decepticons, but really that's just a guise in order to capture all of them.

Serves the Prime right for turning on his own kin.

Megatron found it ironic how the Prime is being hunted down by the very species he chose to protect.

And at the same time, he pitied the fool.

Megatron did not stay in one place for too long. Always making sure to keep moving because Primus forbid these humans corner him. He can see now why these insects had mostly covered the planet.

It was because they're persistent.

Smaller things tend to easily evolve and it proved how they're able to capture many cybertronians and hounded their bounty to wherever they went. And since he figured that perhaps their creators were taken, he opted to care for the sparklings—it didn't matter if it was an Autobot or Decepticon.

They would have died out there.

He doubts their creators were even alive at this point.

It was a surprise to see a sparkling since the last time he saw one was when…

When Cybertron was still thriving.

And now, he finds himself stuck on this dirtball of a planet within an area where no humans go and the ground covered in frozen water crystals. Much to his dismay, the temperature was too cold.

He would've preferred the desert he was stuck in, back when he had been severely damaged, with only a pathetic cloth to cover his injured helm.

That situation was far more better than being stuck in the cold and being functional.

Flying would immediately detect him under the humans' radar and energon would immediately run out.

The stash that he was able to hoard would at least last him until two Earth years and by Primus he was going stretch it out as he could.

Megatron despised the cold.

It reminds him of his imprisonment; how the humans had used him to progress their technology so quickly; how they poked and tore him open; how he was frozen but he can feel every single thing and can't do anything about it.

Frost had covered some parts of his armor, much to his dismay. Moving had also became a little hard since the cold temperature made it difficult for him to function.

He also made sure the sparklings were warm, always placing them near the fire he created.

Megatron wasn't worried he'd be discovered. This abandoned place is surrounded by mountains that encircled the whole area, which reminded him of an arena.

Each solar and lunar cycle that passed, Megatron could feel himself slowly losing his grip on his wits. He wouldn't admit it, but a tinge of fear was what he felt when he thought about it—a glorious leader reduced to a madman.

But that wouldn't happen.

...Right?

The sparklings were still in recharge, huddled close together near the dying embers of the wood.

He needed to fix that.

Megatron had went to get broken trunks of trees from the plants he had collected and used them to make another fire; dry wood is flammable than a damp one. Activating his canon, he then aimed at the make shift campfire—on top of rows and rows of wood so it wouldn't be damp again—and lit it up.

Just enough to get the fire going again.

It was big enough for Megatron to warm him when he slept om the cold ground.

The cackling of the fire brings back memories.

Times when him and his troops would celebrate before they head into battle, a tradition the Decepticons had once practiced in order to enjoy life to its fullest once more in case they offline at the battlefield.

He fought for Cybertron and its people, for the right of those who had been pushed to the deepest parts of the mines that had been labeled with mere number instead of an actual designation, and for the future of his home.

How did it come to this?

Perhaps this was some sort of punishment.

Megatron wouldn't admit it, but he too knows that he had lost sight of his original goal. He wanted Cybertron to be better, to abolish its caste systems.

And now he had became the very being he had sworn to destroy.

But there was method to his madness.

Who else is capable of leading Cybertron? Who else would understand those who are looked down upon? Who understands them and knows the pain they have went through to fight for their lives in order to be barely treated as a living being and had been ripped of their rights as a cybertronian?

The answer is simple: him.

Perhaps to others they would say that it is ironic, but he saw nothing of the sort. If decimating the human race was the only source to revive Cybertron then so be it.

The Autobots didn't understand, blinded by the Prime's charisma but Megatron knew all too well that things would go back to the way they were if they had won.

Cybertronians would continue to suffer, sparklings would learn to fight at such a young age in order to survive and, probably, would be thrown in the pits of the arena at Kaon.

War in of itself was indeed heinous, but Megatron saw no problem if it meant achieving his goals.

He really tried to be diplomatic, his friend Orion had taught him, but would one still be diplomatic if those who had authority continue to trample upon those who are weak?

Prime was correct about violence not being the answer, but it is the question.

And the answer is yes.

If you want something done right, you'll have to do it yourself.

He didn't mind the names he was called—tyrant, monster or a bloodthirsty mech.

In fact, it empowered him.

The fact that they fear him; that they fear that people at the lower caste system would win and overthrow them from the top.

They fear actual progress.

Compared to the peaceful and silent environment that he's in, he much preferred to be on the battlefield.

Letting the warm energon of his foes bathe him and his blade. At least, he was doing something that could help his cause. To set an example to his followers that in order to progress, sacrifices were made—even if it meant killing their own kin.

Here it's... Megatron didn't like it one bit.

Every single day is the same—Megatron caring for the sparklings, doing his rounds, reminiscing about his glorious days, and he even had started to stack up fallen houses before destroying them again out of sheer boredom.

To say that he got bored was the understatement of the century.

Constant daily repeat was maddening, but truly what else is there to do?

Sometimes he had forgotten those days as a warlord, a hero, and those memories had seemed to become a mere dream.

It felt like a life he had left a long time ago.

In this cold, dead, and isolated place was safe. Outside of this deserted area was dangerous and Megatron refused to die in the hands of these insects.

They don't deserve that kind of honor.

Every now and then he wonders if this will be his final destination—forever trapped in this dirt planet until his final moments. Megatron hoped that wouldn't be the case but deep down he knew the truth

A whimper catches his attention, optics snapping at the direction of the sparklings. The one in the middle had risen, large cyan optics blinking owlishly.

He stood up scooping it with his servo. "It's about time I feed you, no?" Megatron hummed as he went to get energon and feeding the youngling, "Eat, little one. So you may grow to be a strong warrior."

Megatron didn't exactly want the sparklings to be a part of the war, but under these circumstances, they had no choice.

Sooner or later they would have to learn in order to survive this world, as harsh as it sounds.

Thankfully, they weren't fussy. Easy to manage, much to his relief. He never experienced to be a youngling, much less take care of one.

Cybertronian had two method of coming into being: one was through copulation of two partners and the other one is from the spark of Cybertron itself.

He came into existence via the latter method, labeled as D-16 and became a miner. That was his sole purpose and nothing else, but whenever he saw his former superiors laughing, he wondered if there was more for him outside the tunnels.

So, he stole their datapads, teaching himself how to read and write. Once he mastered it, he thought his fellow brothers and sisters.

And that was when he realized that these people were robbed of their right to know.

It infuriated him that there was a way other than mindlessly mining for hours on end. Thankfully, someone had seen a potential for him to be a gladiator.

Lo and behold, there really was a world out there.

Cybertron was their home too, how come they weren't allowed to indulge in daily pleasures?

These sparklings were young and Megatron would make sure that they would experience the joys of life other than just survival.

By the time he was done refueling the sparkling, its other siblings had came to as well and nursed them as well. Securing them in his arms and went to do his rounds.

He never left them alone. Primus forbid he was roaming the area and one of them needed help.

Megatron could stand mechs and femmes dying, but a sparkling to die with it's last moments scared and crying out for help? That's something he cannot live down.

He started North, checking to see if there were any humans in the area. The first sign that there is, Megatron would immediately kill them and relocate.

North proved to be deserted. West and South were human-free as well.

Judging from the way the buildings of this area compared to the cities, it must have been so, so old. Probably even before he had crashed in this dirt planet.

Megatron never had any interest in humans, he despised them. He didn't like the fact that he was humiliated by them alongside the Prime when he had gone into hiding.

But given that every day was the same, he allowed himself to find out more about this town using whatever information he can find after the first two months he was stuck here.

It was better than being bored and stuck in a loop.

Apparently, the area was abandoned due to dust storms. He was apparently in a place the humans called 'North Dakota'. So, at first he was wondering where its humans had gone to.

Only to find out he was in a 'ghost town' a place abandoned by the primates.

They called it the 'Arena' and clearly he can see why; it did made sense.

The area was almost hidden and no humans were around the area. There were those that passed by, but they wouldn't be able to see him due to the trees that covered the area.

Mostly, its wild life had inhabited the area. Sometimes he would see creatures that looked the same, but a little different from each other.

One was big and brown, covered in what seemed to be copious amounts of fur and it looked soft when Megatron took a look at it. The first time he saw it, he was doing his rounds when the creature had stumbled in the clearing. Megatron immediately went to pick it up, examining it despite the noise it made before putting it back down.

The primates of Earth had called it a 'bear' and this one was known to be a grizzly.

The other one was black in color and was a little smaller than the grizzly.

It's still covered in fur but it was black. He saw it pass by the area, close to the trees as its three younglings followed and rolled with it. A black bear. Megatron spots them travelling through the area, every now and then.

He didn't mind, they didn't annoy him or cause problems.

He had no problem with that.

On his way to East, his scanners had detected an energon signal.

An energon signal? Megatron thought as he stopped dead on his tracks

It was faint, even he himself didn't detect it at first, so Megatron doubts that it would be processed by human technology.

Was it an Autobot or a Decepticon?

Whoever it was that was there is stupid if they intend to ambush him. The cannon on his arm whirred to life as he prepared to immediately shoot the intruder.

This was his sanctuary now, whether he liked it or not.

Snow covered the ground and as far as his optic can see, there were no signs of anyone walking around his area save for his own trail.

"Who goes there?!" Megatron called out, voice echoing throughout the area. "I know you're out there! Face me, you coward!" He bellowed, taunting whoever it was out there.

Megatron spat out threats, going so far as describing how he will give them a slow and painful death if they refused to comply with his demands.

And yet he was met with silence.

He stopped, optics scanning his surrounding from the near areas up to the hills and mountains; going so far as to squinting his optics, but no one was there.

Looking around one more time to make sure no one was there, he held the sparklings tighter as he continued to walk.

The more he approached the area, the more the energon signal grew stronger.

And he stopped when he noticed hole in the snow not too far away from where he stood. It seemed that, that was its source.

Megatron went near it, confused.

Then, his optics widened at what he saw.

It was a human.

Dressed in white with bits of dirt on its cloth, white fur on its body as the dark fur on its helm fanned around its faceplates. Bits of dark red fluid staining its forehead. They seemed pale—almost lifeless—and the tips of its digits were turning a little blue. Its chest slowly rose and fell, as if it was in a deep slumber.

What a strange human, but a human nonetheless.

He pointed his cannon on it, the weapon charging up to deal enough damage to kill the insect on the spot.

Its fingers twitched, its optics were still shut but Megatron can see movement beneath the opticlids of the insect.

Or... I could keep it. He thought.

The humans had humiliated him, because they were plenty. They were strong in numbers, but what if there was only one of them?

The Witwicky boy was scared out of its own wit when he was alone, then that would mean that all humans would be the same—they were more courageous and likely to engage in a confrontation if they stayed in numbers.

The thought alone infuriated him, igniting the ire within him that never seemed to go away.

No one humiliates him and lives.

One human at a time, then they will be reminded why they should fear him.

Starting with this one. He thought to himself, amused.

Megatron looks at the creature and examining it from its helm to its pedes; perhaps this can be someone whom he can torture.

Finally, there was something more interesting in order to pass the time.

A grin emerges from his faceplates. "Let's see how well you do if you're alone," Megatron taunts the human, but it didn't give a single response.

He reaches down to inspect the insect as he picked it up with his digits, careful not to—and resisted the urge to— squish it; he needed it alive if he wanted to torment them.

Megatron made sure there wasn't anything suspicious on her that would reveal his location and upon doing so, the fur on its head—long, dark and curly—dangled from its organic helm.

He hoped it wasn't dead.

That would just bore him and humans—specifically, the squishy's insides when they're dead—are gross and tend to smell.

Practicing his lines and how he would scare them. It's been so long since he had actually interacted with anyone besides the sparklings.

And after deciding what to say, he smiled triumphantly.

Gently, he settled the sparklings near the fire. Making sure that they were warm. He then sat down, optics examining his new conquest in the middle of his palm and bringing it close to the flames.

Too much cold would be deadly to a human and with a quick look up why the digits of the human were blue, Megatron opened his servo as he brought it close to the fire. And judging from what he read, it would've died the longer it was exposed to ice.

Not too long, the human turns its back to him; curling on itself in his servo. It's back curved outwards, legs bent up to its chassis, and its arms held against in-between its torso and its legs.

It looked so... small.

He waited for the human to open its optics in order to toy with it.

He waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Minutes turned to hours and it still had not wake.

Did it offlined? Megatron hesitantly poked it with his digit.

Once.

Twice.

Third time's the charm–it whimpered, making the war lord jolt. The humans whimpered and groan in his servo, its optic ridges furrowed.

He wondered how he didn't notice it walk around the area or how he never saw it as well. It couldn't have just magically teleported there. As far as he knew, humans haven't discovered that kind of technology and they certainly don't posses abilities like that.

Once she awakens, Megatron will have plenty of time to toy with her.

The mere thought of it brought him excitement.


A dull distant pain rang through her head.

She was moving.

Moving?

Where was she going?

Persephone could here someone telling her to stay awake, her eyes catching what looked like tiles that had lights on them. But she was exhausted, and now the pain that seemed to devour her whole body became dull.

Doors could be heard opening.

Buzzing fluorescent lights.

The sensation of being pushed forwards.

People dressed in blue moving around her, blurry and frantic.

Persephone felt someone shoving a tube down her throat, she couldn't move, she couldn't form words, and she couldn't scream. They were saying something, but she couldn't understand it, it sounded garbled and so far away.

It was all so much.

Too much.

What happened?

What happened to her body?

Why couldn't she move?

And then Persephone could suddenly see, like ribbons had been removed from her eyes. She could see... someone, as if she was standing beside a corpse.

Blood plastered on their face and head. Their features were unrecognizable, swollen, and distorted. But she knew that white sandals and that flowy dress that was now red.

It was her.

One of the nurses had swiftly cut the now blood-soaked dress, revealing what she could see was a broken bone sticking out of her flesh with her left arm bent the wrong way. Persephone felt sick, bile rising in her throat. She wanted to move. She tried to move or even close her eyes, but she couldn't; as if her eyelids didn't even exist.

Around her, nurses and doctors rushed around grabbing gauzes, wires, and loads of blood bags.

Chaos was apparently the theme of the room.

It felt weird to see all of this unfold, the nurses doing what they can and so were the doctors. What happened? Why was she here? Persephone couldn't remember how she got into this sort of predicament.

"She's coding!" One of the nurses yelled out, her eyes looking at the heart monitor that had been attached to her just as it turned into a flat continuous line; the sound was loud and annoying.

Orders here and there were being barked as the monotonous and undisturbed beep of the device echoed in the room, as if it was taunting the medical professionals.

A man dressed in a white coat grabbed what Persephone recognized as a defibrillator, rubbing the charging pads together.

"Three, two, one. Clear!" The man pressed the pads to her chest. Then she could suddenly move as she flinched when a sharp and all-consuming pain, coursed through her like lightning.

Her mouth opened to scream, but no sound came.

Then nothing.

Darkness surrounded her as if she was floating in an endless void. Despite not having a sense of direction, not really knowing where up or down was, Persephone believed she was floating.

She had to be.

She willed her mouth to open in an attempt to scream, but she failed yet again. Panicked thoughts flooded through her, a stream of curses and unanswerable questions, all culminating in a sense of inescapablewrongness. Persephone wasn't breathing and yet at the same time, she wasn't suffocating.

Everything felt wrong.

Persephone ended up floating in the endless sea of black. From time to time, she could hear machines echoing in her ears as if she was in an empty room. She caught figments of conversations, but it didn't have any context to it—useless.

"...what happened to my baby?!..."

"...medically induced coma..."

"...Wake up, Sephie..."

Persephone didn't know how long she had been there. It could've been days, weeks, months or even years. Not only did she feel bodiless, but now she didn't have a sense of time as well.

Was this death?

She supposed it was.

However, there were no pearly white stairs or golden gates, there was no Saint Peter to give her access to Eternal Paradise, and there was a lack of angel choir.

There wasn't an intimidating dog in front of her that demanded her heart to be put on a scale with a feather, not to mention there was no line of people around.

Just her.

The snippets of conversations and both wheezing and beeping of machines had all but disappeared

She didn't know what was happening, but Persephone couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped, despite the vast expanse surrounding her. Perhaps, it was an illusion to trick her into believing she was in a void when in reality she was trapped.

But where could she possibly be trapped?

The fear within her wilts into anxiousness. There was the possibility of a shock that could spread throughout her body, or the sudden pain that might whip her. Or maybe a light would start to glow in front of her, comforting and warm as she's pushed to whatever the afterlife had in store for her. Maybe, she'll be reincarnated and have her memories wiped clean.

And what of her mother and siblings in this life? She didn't even get to say goodbye to them.

But deep down inside, Persephone wanted nothing more than to be pulled away from this pit.

I'd do anything other than being stuck here, She thought and she feared that she would never get out of this oblivion.

There was a change in the air, and she was overcome with the sensation of being watched, of being judged.

Even though the void around her still looked empty, she knew she was no longer by herself. Persephone felt totally exposed, inside and out, like a tiny creature under the microscope of some unknowable being.

And then for the first time in what felt like a millennia, there was cold air that blew through her. Then she was alone again.

Cold.

That was the first thing she felt. It was cold and it was painful. It felt like skin on ice and it hurts.

Second it had gotten bright. She still couldn't see anything, but it felt like she was facing the sun due to the color she was seeing. It was so weird.

Third, there was a loud ringing in her ear. Persephone felt her head throb from the sound and the sudden brightness didn't help.

Last but not the least, her chest seemed to ache. It was a mixture of that feeling when you breathe while a sharp pain was being stabbed in your chest and a weight being on it.

And it was so, so cold.

She wanted to cry or scream out for help, but her body stayed still—made her consciousness into its prisoner. It felt like her limbs were heavy and the bitter cold made it painful.

Beneath her, the ground shook and grew stronger and stronger.

Was there an earthquake?

That couldn't be. The void didn't have that. But then again, she could feel her fingers and her body, so she doubts she was still there.

This is bad, she's in danger especially the fact that she doesn't even have any idea where she is. Oh god, she could fall or get crushed and then–

And then it stopped.

Everything stopped.

Persephone wasn't sure what she preferred to feel, the rumbling or the eerie stillness. The ringing somewhat subsided, but it was still there.

Forcing with all her might to move her body, Persephone successfully moved her fingers. It was barely a twitch, but baby steps are better than none. Her eyes darted around and judging from the way the light moved, she figured her eyes were closed.

Well, I guess I'm fucked. She thought grimly.

She heard someone speak, but the ringing in her ears made their voice muffled. And then she felt something graze her face and what the fuck was that?! It was so fucking cold!

It felt like metal was pressed on her skin in various parts of her body—her arms, torso, her legs and, much to her dismay, she also felt it in her inner thigh.

Persephone wanted to squirm away, even when the object didn't linger and disappeared.

But her body continued to stay still.

Suddenly, she couldn't feel the painful cold that burned on her skin. It lingered, but it wasn't as intense as before. Her legs seemed to dangle as the cold hard object wrapped around her body, successfully keeping her in place.

Persephone was being moved, but she didn't know where. The ringing in her ears had—thank fucking god—faded into nothingness and she could hear things; the throbbing on her head had also somewhat subsided.

Not too long, she heard the sound of fire—cackling and crunching as it burned. And then, whatever it is that was used to wrap around her had been removed; the cold hard surface was still beneath her.

And then, the coldness faded into warmth and Persephone had never felt so much relief in her whole life.

She didn't move for a long time, didn't lift a muscle in fear that the warmth would disappear.

The heavy weight in her body seemed to fade away and the cold metal surface—metal?—beneath her was still cold, but it wasn't so, so cold anymore.

She wanted to open her eyes, but it weighed heavy. Her consciousness was ebbing away and her thoughts, as clear and concise they were moments ago, were coming to an end.

Persephone turned to her side, curling into a ball as exhaustion dragged her mind back to darkness

For the first time in what felt like forever, she finally slept.


End of Chapter II


Author's Note:

HI! Thank you for your support! Seeing your reviews made me happy! Please continue to support me and thanknyou again! I am so happy that you guys love it!

Also, yes I researched that the ghost town called Arena doesn't have any mountains and that it's just hills there but I wanted to add mountains just to exaggerate how caged Megatron is :)

—Stwawbewwy