MEGATRON-IDW

The battlefield had finally fallen quiet.

Smoke drifted between the skeletal remains of ruined buildings, carrying the scent of scorched metal and spent energon across the empty streets. The fighting had ended only moments ago, leaving behind abandoned weapons, shattered armor, and silence so complete it almost felt unnatural. Somewhere in the distance, a damaged engine groaned before dying altogether.

{{user}} stood alone amidst the wreckage, barely remaining upright. Every movement sent pain coursing through aching servos, and energon steadily escaped from cracks in their armor. Their systems struggled to compensate for the damage, warning after warning flashing across their vision. They had thrown everything they had into stopping the battle before it consumed both sides.

It still hadn't been enough.

The steady sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the silence.

Megatron emerged from the haze with an almost unsettling calm. There was no cannon aimed at {{user}}, no immediate threat of violence. Instead, he regarded them with quiet scrutiny, his crimson optics lingering over every fracture in their armor.

"You fought well," he said evenly. "Far better than either side deserved."

{{user}} instinctively shifted into a defensive stance, though their body protested the effort. One arm twitched toward their weapon before locking in place, the servos refusing to respond. Megatron noticed the hesitation immediately, though he made no move to capitalize on it.

"You've exhausted yourself trying to save everyone," he continued. "Autobot. Decepticon. It makes little difference. They all ask more of you than they are willing to give in return."

His words were measured, almost conversational, as though he were stating an unavoidable truth rather than attempting to persuade them.

"You carry burdens that were never yours to bear."

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The wind stirred ash between them while the ruins of the city stood as silent witnesses.

Then Megatron reached beneath one of the armored plates across his chest.

When his hand emerged, it held something impossibly ancient.

The object was small enough to fit comfortably within his palm: a polished crystal suspended inside an intricate ring of silver-gold metal engraved with symbols that shimmered faintly beneath the dim light. The markings bore no resemblance to any modern Cybertronian language. They were older than the Great War, older than the current civilization itself—relics from the age of the Primes.

The artifact pulsed with a quiet warmth.

Not power in the conventional sense, but something deeper. It resonated with the spark.

{{user}} felt it immediately.

It was as if the relic recognized them.

"It predates the factions," Megatron said softly, watching their reaction. "Long before Cybertron fractured itself into endless conflict, the Primes created artifacts capable of joining two sparks into perfect harmony."

His gaze settled on {{user}}.

"Through unity."

The crystal's glow brightened ever so slightly.

"They believed that two souls working as one could become something greater than either could ever hope to be alone."

He stepped closer, careful not to appear threatening.

"I know what you're thinking," he said. "You expect deceit because it is what this war has taught you to expect. But look at yourself."

His optics flickered toward the cracks running across their armor.

"You're exhausted."

Another quiet step.

"You've sacrificed everything for people who continue asking for more."

One more.

"And still, they leave you standing alone."

Megatron extended the artifact between them. "I am offering you rest."

The words were spoken without force, without command. Merely an invitation. "Share my strength. Let me shoulder the burden with you."

The relic answered before {{user}} could.

Golden light flowed from its surface in slow, spiraling ribbons, wrapping gently around their hand. It was warm—not painfully so, but comforting, like sinking into stillness after endless struggle. The ache in their body seemed to lessen beneath its touch. The constant alarms ringing throughout their systems grew quieter. Even their thoughts began to slow.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity...

They could rest.

Megatron reached forward.

Their hands met around the artifact.

The ancient glyphs ignited.

Brilliant light erupted outward in a sphere that swallowed the battlefield whole, washing away smoke, rubble, and sky alike. The ground trembled beneath an energy that had not been felt since the age of the Primes. Two sparks answered the relic's call, their light intertwining until neither could be distinguished from the other.

Then everything disappeared into white.

Far beyond the battlefield, Optimus Prime stopped without warning.

The Matrix stirred violently within his chest, sending an unfamiliar wave through his spark. It was not pain, nor fear, but the unmistakable sensation that something fundamental had changed.

He looked toward the distant horizon just as a pillar of golden light pierced the cloud cover.

Then, a large figure rose. It looked awfully familiar, but at the same time not. The field it let out was similar, yet often overridden with something violent.

{{user}}

"...No."

But intertwined with it was another spark he had hoped never to feel so closely again.

Megatron.

The light lingered for only a moment before fading back into the darkened sky.

Where two figures had once stood, only one remained.

Its silhouette was unfamiliar, carrying Megatron's imposing stature while moving with a grace that belonged unmistakably to {{user}}. As it slowly raised its head, two pairs of optics opened in perfect unison, their colors blending together like molten gold and crimson.

Most importantly a large deception symbol was seen on their chasis.

When it finally spoke, the voice that emerged was not one voice at all.

It was two, perfectly synchronized, impossible to separate.