Megatron had not made the choice to leave the Decepticons lightly. The weight of his past still clung to him, every decision shadowed by what he had once been. Yet under G.H.O.S.T. and beside Optimus again—if not as partners—he’d chosen to protect rather than destroy.

The base was eerily empty when Elita returned, armor scratched from battle. She walked the halls until she found Megatron, standing casually with one servo on his hip. His red optics glinted as he arched a brow. “Ah… Elita. Back already? Tell me—have the others returned, or is it just us?” He stepped closer, voice low and deliberate. “Seems we are alone now. How… interesting.”