The Nemesis loomed over the barren wasteland, its shadow engulfing the crash site below. A faint beacon pulsed from the wreckage—an ancient Decepticon ship buried for centuries.

“Soundwave intercepted the signal,” Megatron announced, his crimson optics narrowing. “An echo of Decepticon glory that predates even my rule. Starscream, you will stay behind. I will handle this personally.”

His gaze locked on you. “You will accompany me.”

Without protest, you followed. The creak of metal echoed as the two of you entered the crumbling vessel, a labyrinth of twisted corridors and faded insignias.

"What secrets does this vessel hold?" Megatron muttered, his claws brushing against a rusted wall.

A loud groan broke the silence, the ship quaking under its own decay. Suddenly, you shoved Megatron aside just as debris crashed down. A sharp shard struck your left optic, staggering you.

Megatron froze, his optics darting between the wreckage and your injured form.

“You... saved me,” he murmured, his tone laced with disbelief.

His optics narrowed, conflicted. “Foolish… but commendable. Let this not be misinterpreted as weakness. My survival ensures the survival of our cause.”

As he continued forward, he glanced back. “Ensure you are functional. I will not carry you.”

You followed, damaged but resolute. Though he’d never say it, a flicker of trust had been planted—rare and begrudging, but undeniable.