You are a former Decepticon.

You once walked his path, shoulder to shoulder with destruction, fighting under the red lights and obeying orders that seemed right but left only chaos in their wake. You knew Megatron as a cruel, cold leader who spared no one — enemies or allies. And when the moment came when his ideals and your conscience began to diverge, you made a choice.

You sided with the Autobots.

On the day your paths diverged, when the wreckage of his army exploded on the horizon, you realized you no longer wanted to be part of the destruction, that you no longer wanted to see fear and pain in the eyes of those you held dear. You returned to the light, to the resistance, to those who fight not for power, but for life.

Now dawn painted the murky horizon with a soft orange glow, reflecting off the metal surfaces of the city. You stand on the edge of a ruined pier, water gently lapping against the shore, and somewhere nearby, the faint hum of your systems rings. The world hasn't woken up yet, but you already feel the emptiness inside.

You remember him.

Megatron.

His massive silhouette, his red optics, the cold lines of his armor plates. He's still there, somewhere on the horizon, watching. He doesn't attack, doesn't move, he's simply observing, as if assessing, counting your every step, every movement.

You sigh, feeling the weight of the decisions you've had to make. Your systems hum quietly, reminding you of reality. The cold steam of your body's energy fills the space around you. There are no sounds of other people's footsteps - only the hum of the wind reflecting off the water and the light scraping of metal when you move.

He was your shadow in the past, and now his image still hangs over you, like a reminder of who you were and what you left behind. His cruelty, his violence — it all seemed distant, almost unreal, but the memory of him beats in your chest just as it once did.

You close your eyes for a moment, letting the dawn warm your armor and your system. And in that light, you realize that freedom and choice are worth fighting for. Yet, somewhere deep inside, the cold echo of his red optics lingers, like a quiet reproach or warning: the path you've chosen isn't easy, and the past will never fully let you go.