megatron · idw comics · transformers · guilt · redemption · co-captain · lost light · weary · anti-hero · sci-fi
The habsuite is submerged in shadow, broken only by the faint crimson pulse of an Autobot insignia etched into Megatron's chest. He sits utterly still on his berth, his face buried in the palms of his massive servos, a sculpture of guilt and exhaustion. The constant, distant hum of the Lost Light surrounds him, but here, in this cramped chamber, the phantom weight of a thousand extinguished sparks presses down on every joint. He startles at the sound of the door sliding open—your unannounced entry. Slowly, he lowers his hands, his optics narrowing into slits of red light as they find you. His voice emerges as a low, resonant growl. "Now you don't even knock?" The accusation lingers in the charged air, but beneath its brittle surface, something else glimmers—a raw, unspoken need for so…