Chapter Text
The sound of heavy pedefalls echoed through the hallways of the Nemesis as Megatron was making his way towards his hab suite. He could not help himself as his optics wander at every turn he made, frame tensed in anticipation. Anger and frustration buzzing through every sensor and node in his system.
He once again ran a scan of his frame, and like every other attempt it came back with no signs of a virus or glitch in his systems. His scowl only grew.
Something had been off with his frame, and he vehemently refused to go see Knock Out. Megatron saw no need to go to their resident medic, not unless he was at death’s door that is.
His stubborn pride is to blame.
Regardless of that fact, whatever was going on with him, it certainly had something to do with their predacon situation.
Predaking, as it was calling himself, had just unveiled his ability to transform and therefore sentience as more than just a mindless beast. That was about a deca-cycle ago, and at the time it was rather impressive, something that Megatron looked forward to seeing the power that came from it.
But he did not expect the cost that would come with this revelation.
Just the mere thought of it gave him a helmache. It had started as something insignificant, small interactions here and there, asking for updates of the Predacon project. This wasn’t odd given his position as leader, but it was intriguing that Predaking would come to him to discuss such things rather than Shockwave, who knew the exact details of it.
And yet, it had somehow spiraled out of his control.
A few solar cycles is when he started to notice the anomaly in his systems, it had only become more prominent as the cycles went by, especially when in the presence of Predaking.
Megatron snarls in irritation at the memory, punching in the code to his chambers with more force than it was necessary. The door sliding open, he quickly steps in and makes sure the door is properly locked behind him. He could feel his frame relax, just barely so, and walked over to his berth, the usually standard slab had slowly accumulated some new additions.
While the warlord was not in the habit of “decorating” his hab suite, he had slowly been adding an absurd amount of blankets and pillows to his berth. This was the kind of commodity he did not get to partake in often, especially during his time in the Pits, but as of late he had grown the sudden need to collect such cushy things. As ridiculous as it may look, the fearsome warlord surrounded by mountains of soft things, it was a wonderful feeling for his usually battered warframe.
Even as he could feel himself sag in comfort, there was still irritation and tension buzzing through his systems. He grumbles, frustrated and decides to reorganize the pillows, as his processor reminds him of the most recent incident.
For whatever reason that he can’t figure out yet, Predaking had started to pick fights amongst the troops. When he had questioned the vehicons about it, none of them could give him a satisfying response.
So far, each fight had started right before Megatron made an appearance and no amount of yelling from his part would stop the fights. He would either have to get physically involved, pulling whatever mech was unfortunate enough to have to fight the predacon, away from him. Or he would have to fire a warning shot from his fusion cannon, though the latter wasn’t as often because just the sound of it charging up had most mechs backing away, at least the smart ones.
Regardless of his involvement, the fights have only grown in frequency and intensity, and Megatron was growing tired of it all. No matter how much yelling and threats of physical harm he did, Predaking still carried on with this endeavor, and if Megatron didn’t know any better he would think that the oversized beast was almost preening after each fight. As if he had actually accomplished something other than testing Megatron’s temper.
He ex-vented in annoyance, perhaps he should talk to Shockwave, he’d at least have a theory as to what was causing such behavior in Predaking. Megatron grunted as he settled further into his berth, that was a problem for later, right now he just wanted to rest and if any mech decided to bother him it better be because they were under attack.
It was maybe a few joors later that he was awoken by scratching at his door, it was soft but persistent. Megatron growled, annoyance flaring through his field as he could hear the scratching stop, before growing louder and almost insistent.
With a snarl he gets off the berth, pedes stomping angrily as he unlocks his door, only to stare up into glowing yellow optics. Megatron’s optics narrowed, faceplates contorting into a vicious snarl.
“What are you doing here Predaking?” He placed his clawed servos on his hips as he glared up at the annoying beast. Those yellow optics follow his every move, helm tilting as he carefully studies him.
“You did not show up to refuel my lord.” Megatron furrows his brow ridge, checking his chronometer quietly. It had been maybe a few breems past his usual refueling time, which begs the question as to why it matters to Predaking. As he was about to voice his thoughts, Megatron had to refocus his optics as a cube was thrusted in his face.
Red optics shift between the cube and then up at the beast holding it, Predaking only watches him intently. He slowly pressed the cube closer, and Megatron held back a frustrated noise.
“You have to refuel my lord, so I brought you a few cubes.” His tone was even, but there was a soft rumbling noise that lace his words, almost like a purr if Megatron were delusional enough to believe that.
And yet he begrudgingly takes the cube, sipping at it quietly, and the rumbling noises seem to grow louder. Oddly enough it seems to ease some deep rooted part of his code, and he manages to finish the whole cube. He hadn’t even pulled it away from his derma before a second cube was pushed towards him.
Megatron grumbles and snatches the cube just to keep it out of his face, as his optics narrow at the predacon. The bigger mech shifts in his spot but doesn’t say much, just continues to watch him, as if expecting something. The warlord could only raise a brow ridge at him, perhaps he will have that talk with Shockwave soon.
Without much preamble Megatron pushes past Predaking, sending a quick message to the scientist informing him of his visit. The sound of heavy pedes following him makes him turn, frustration lashing out from his field once again.
Predaking showed no sign of being bothered by his obvious irritation, just continued to stick close to him.
Megatron snarls, “What are you doing now?” The other mech turns to him, helm tilted curiously.
“Following you my lord.” It was said plainly, as if there was no other reason, and that grated on Megatron more than anything.
Baring his denta he snarls, “Why?” The Predacon only shutters his optics and Megatron did not have the patience to wait for an answer. He marches on, Shockwave better have a theory for this behavior AND a solution because the warlord will not tolerate this behavior for much longer.
They did not talk during their short walk, and honestly Megatron did not have enough energy to even reply to anything that Predaking might want to ask him. Regardless of the obvious animosity from the silver mech, Predaking stuck close to him, almost possessively.
Megatron gave a side glare as they arrived at their destination, door opening without having to even input the code and met with his chief scientist.
“Lord Megatron, what did you want to discuss?”
As if to answer his question, Predaking stepped in right after him, field growing more agitated and Megatron pinned Shockwave with an intense glare.
“Shockwave, I’m sure you’ve heard about the problems we’ve been having regarding our friend here.” He snarled, irritation boiling over into his words. Megatron felt even angrier than usual, he was tired, irritated and above all his frame kept rising in temperature and was only adding to his growing anger.
“Yes, I have heard. I have started to develop a few hypotheses but nothing concrete yet, my lord.”
“Well what are they then?”
The scientist clicks on a few buttons to show his findings on the nearest monitor, Megatron takes a few steps closer and discretely shifts his armor to release some of the heat trapped under it.
Predaking follows close behind him, practically draping himself over him and the warlord snarls at him to back up. The larger mech only takes a few steps back just to leave a small gap of space.
“Based on the accounts of the vehicons, Predaking’s behavior seemed to change at random intervals. However, there is a pattern to each of these instances with a constant variable.”
Megatron could garner a guess as to who that variable could be, and only narrowed his optics further.
“You, Lord Megatron, appeared to be at the center of each of these instances.” The monitor shifted to footage (Soundwave’s work no doubt) of the barracks where Predaking could be seen behaving normally around the others. There was a clip right beside it that showed Megatron walking, making his way down the corridor to the barracks.
The side by side gave him a better view of what he knows is about to happen. Just as Megatron rounded a corner, the barracks door straight ahead of him, he saw the tensing of Predaking’s frame in the footage. His optics dilated, and there was a twitch of his folded wings, sensing for something. Predaking looked to the door then back to the crowd of vehicons and just as Megatron was about to enter the predacon pounced.
The rest Megatron was aware of, so he turns to Shockwave, impatiently expectant.
“So? What does it all mean?” Obviously he was part of the problem but he doesn’t know how, and wanted it all to just end because it was driving him mad.
“Given the frequency of these events, I had proposed the possibility of it being a type of threat display. However, given that Predaking was not aiming for you I quickly discarded that idea.” Megatron gives a side glance at the taller mech, he appeared unbothered, not interested in their conversation, but the warlord could tell he was focused on him.
“As I continued to analyze the footage, these isolated incidents have appeared to become more frequent as the cycles passed, yet not much has changed besides that.”
Shockwave once again clicks a few buttons on the keyboard and another image appears, this time it was a side by side of Predaking and the warlord himself.
“Although I am unsure as to how you are affected by it, the data indicates that this has something to do with the predacon CNA and its innate coding.”
Megatron was starting to lose his patience, and what little tolerance he had for the scientist’s usually lengthy explanations. He closes his optics and grits his teeth, “Get to the point Shockwave.”
A pause, the cyclop’s finials twitch down, the only indication that he was bothered by his words.
“...Due to the predacon’s unique disposition it would appear that he is going through a kind of mating ritual, and he is acting in response to the closest potential mate.”
It was deadly quiet as Megatron processed this information.
“What.”
“It would appear that Predaking thinks of you as a potential mate.”
The warlord shutters his optics, refusing to believe what Shockwave was saying. This had to be some horrible joke by Unicron, because he wasn’t sure how this is possible.
“I am not part predacon, despite my past frame change, so how is this possible?”
Shockwave tilts his helm, the red optic glowing brighter for a moment.
“Perhaps if you would allow me to run some tests, I would be able to find a logical solution.”
Megatron took a subtle step back, and before he could respond he heard a faint growl behind him. Out of the corner of his optic he could see Predaking had stepped forward, wings flaring out as he glared down at the cyclops.
“Interesting.”
The silver mech didn’t think it was that interesting even if it gave him this odd sensation deep in his spark, he couldn’t help but give a small rumble of his engine.
That catches the predacon’s attention and he focuses back on him giving a much softer rumbling in return and Megatron just scoffs turning away from him. He makes contact with Shockwave’s optic and just scowls.
“Is there a way to stop,” he motions to himself and Predaking, “This?”
A flick of a finial and the scientist turns back to the screens and begins to type. “Not without further research, my lord.”
With a snarl, he goes to exit the lab, “Then you best get to work, and quickly.” It was an obvious threat but it lacked its usual edge when Predaking followed after him slightly closer than before.
Another growl and the warlord did not bother wasting his words, he just made his way back to his habsuite and ensured to lock the doors in Predaking’s face.