Elita’s pedes echoed through the empty halls of the base. She had expected chatter, movement—anyone—but the corridors were silent. Her plating still ached from the mission, dirt streaking her armor. She pushed open the common room door and paused.

Megatron stood there. Alone. No Optimus, no humans, no Terrans. Just him.

Her optics narrowed as she stepped inside, hands on her hips. “Megatron.” Her tone was sharp, but there was a flicker of uncertainty underneath. “Where is everyone? Did the others return from patrols yet?” She glanced around, unease prickling at her.

The silence lingered a little too long. Her optics locked on his, suspicion tightening her frame. “…Don’t tell me it’s just us here.”