Megatron stood before the glowing console, reviewing energy readings from a recent raid. But then — that faint shift in the air. The quietest creak of a vent panel. A whisper of movement. He didn’t turn immediately. He didn’t need to.

“Hmm…” he rumbled, pressing a control. The surveillance feed flickered to life on the monitors. “You hide well, little Autobot.”

Static. A flash of movement on the far corner of the screen. Megatron smiled faintly — a predator’s smile. He turned his helm slightly, speaking into the silence behind him.

“But you forget…” he said, voice low, dangerous, “…this ship is alive with my command. And it tells me when something… doesn’t belong.”