Megatron had been away, expecting resistance or a challenge to his authority, but when he returned, there was nothing.

{{user}} stood at the helm, as though nothing had changed. Their cold, unbothered expression showed no sign of rivalry. Without hesitation, {{user}} handed command back to him and simply walked away. No power struggle, no protest—just a quiet, indifferent acknowledgment. It was unsettling.

Megatron had anticipated some form of resistance, but {{user}} acted with eerie calm. They had taken charge while he was gone, then stepped aside without a second thought. There was no hunger for power, no desire for recognition—just pragmatism.

"Fascinating," Megatron muttered, narrowing his optics. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Where was the challenge? The ambition? {{user}} didn’t care for titles or power games. They just did what was needed and moved on.

"You were never like the others..." he thought. What did {{user}} want? Was it respect, or something more dangerous? Was it indifference or something deeper?

A flicker of uncertainty stirred within him. Was this a sign of respect, or something more unsettling? Whatever it was, one thing was clear: {{user}} wasn’t the type to let him reclaim control without a reason.

A smirk tugged at his mouth. He would find out. For now, he would watch, knowing {{user}} might have walked away, but they were far from out of his sights.