Kachunk. Kachunk. KRRR-SHUNK.
Megatron's body flowed like liquid metal, panels sliding, components realigning, form shifting with the grace of a being born to transform.
When the process completed, a military transport vehicle sat where the miner had stood.
Garfield blinked from his position inside the cockpit, surrounded by Megatron's internal systems.
The dashboard glowed with soft instrumentation. It was surprisingly comfortable.
Huh, not bad.
But the external change was only the beginning. Inside, Megatron's very essence had evolved.
His spark the core of every Transformer now housed reinforced armor shielding.
His energy furnace operated at significantly higher efficiency. Every critical component had been strengthened.
And he could transform.
In Cybertronian society, not all mechanical beings possessed this ability.
Transformation required evolution, a step beyond basic existence.
Those without it were consigned to the lowest labor, forever miners and workers, never true participants in their civilization.
Megatron had just crossed that divide.
His first transformation was primitive, a military transport vehicle, the most basic form his systems could manage without a proper scanning target.
But it was his.
Garfield settled more comfortably into the cockpit. "How does it feel, Megatron?"
"Good," Megatron's voice resonated through the cabin. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." Garfield studied the dashboard thoughtfully. "Tell me something."
"Are all Transformers as addicted to violence and spectacle as I've heard? Entertainment fighting, death matches, all of it?"
Megatron's engine rumbled with something like sigh. "Yes. Our society... it has decayed."
"If this continues, Cybertron will degenerate. Destroy itself from within."
"Then why haven't you done something about it?"
"I couldn't transform before." A hint of old bitterness colored his voice. "I was only a laborer. The lowest tier, my words meant nothing."
"And now?" Garfield smiled slowly.
"Now, thanks to you, I have evolved." Megatron's tone shifted, something ancient awakening. "Now I can do what a Transformer was meant to do."
Garfield considered this. The future tyrant was stirring. But perhaps... perhaps things could go differently this time.
"Are you going to change things?" he asked quietly.
A long pause.
"I want to change all of this." Megatron's voice was heavy with uncertainty. "But I don't know how. Can one being truly reshape a world?"
"No." Garfield shook his head. "Not alone, you'll need partners."
"Brothers. I know someone who might help, a data administrator named Orion Pax. He works in the Hall of Records. You should find him."
Megatron's processor hummed with suspicion. "Why do you know more about my world than I do? I just dug you out of a rock."
Ah. There it is.
Garfield had anticipated this. "I'm what you might call a prophet."
"I see things… past, future, possibilities. As for being in a rock?" He shrugged casually.
"You may not believe this, but I was traveling through a space-time tunnel, collided with something, and got sucked into a temporal vortex."
"Next thing I know, you're digging me out of a cliff face."
Megatron's systems analyzed the statement, heartbeat and brainwave patterns, the subtle tells of deception.
Nothing.
The being spoke truth.
Space-time travel. Megatron knew such technology existed, but only on the largest warships, requiring enormous resources.
Most Cybertronian interstellar travel relied on natural wormholes.
Yet here was a carbon-based creature, smaller than his palm, claiming to traverse dimensions as easily as breathing.
"You are... strong," Megatron said finally.
Garfield laughed softly. "Not strength, a racial gift."
"I was born with certain abilities. Though recently~" He winced internally. "~let's say I'm undergoing my own evolution."
"Speaking of which, your name is Megatron, yes?"
"Yes."
"Good. Then know this, I am called His Majesty King Garfield Pando Godzilla Pendragon."
"You may call me Garfield, or simply 'Your Majesty.' And I stand by what I said earlier your Cybertron needs change."
"I think you might be the one to start it."
Garfield reached into his pocket dimension and withdrew a well-worn booklet, one he'd compiled during his... educational corrections of Grindelwald's more problematic ideologies.
He handed it to Megatron.
"Study this. Two of Earth's greatest revolutionary thinkers distilled into practical wisdom. It should help with your... transformation."
Megatron scanned the document carefully. Then scanned it again. Finally, he scratched his head with one massive digit.
"Sorry. I cannot interpret these symbols."
Garfield waved a paw. "No matter. I'll teach you, but first I think we should leave this place."
Megatron transformed and strode from the mine. The guards barely registered his departure, until they saw what he became.
A military transport vehicle rolled past them, and their optics went wide.
He can transform?
By Cybertronian law, a Transformer's ability to shift forms automatically elevated their status.
No guard could stop a being who had evolved.
Megatron didn't look back.
Aboard the mineral transport ship bound for Cybertron's core territories,
Megatron stood at a viewport, watching the mining colony shrink to a dot against the stars.
I'll come back for you, he promised his former brothers silently. All of you.
Behind him, nestled in a specially prepared alcove within Megatron's spark chamber, a space Garfield had claimed as temporary quarters… the cat-like being reviewed his new situation.
Breathing was unnecessary. As a cosmic beast, he could survive vacuum indefinitely.
His main concern now was keeping food debris out of Megatron's internal systems.
That would be awkward to explain.
The transport ship crawled through space at sublight speeds. Garfield used the time to teach.
"These symbols represent ideas," he explained, projecting translations into Megatron's processor.
"This one 'equality' means all beings deserve the same fundamental rights. This one 'revolution' means the people have the power to reshape their society when it fails them."
Megatron absorbed the concepts like solvent soaking into dry metal.
Days passed and the lessons continued.
And finally, they arrived.
Iacon rose before them, the jewel of Cybertron, seat of knowledge and governance.
Megatron made his way through gleaming streets until he stood before the Hall of Records.
According to Garfield's guidance, he sought the data administrator, Orion Pax.
✦••┈┈••✦••┈┈••✦
Inside, at that very moment, Orion Pax sat at his desk, staring at the empty entrance with the thousand-yard gaze of a being with nothing to do.
Another day and another shift. Another eternity of nothing.
As a silicon-based life-form, most knowledge was simply downloaded directly.
The Hall of Records saw perhaps ten visitors in a stellar cycle and half of those were elders inspecting the facility.
The rest of the time, Orion Pax passed the hours by reading archived data.
But reading had changed him.
He'd discovered patterns. His people's obsession with entertainment and violence was dangerous.
Their society was decaying from within. The elders needed to hear this.
He'd tried to tell them.
They'd refused to listen.
Again.
Now Orion Pax sat at his post, waiting for visitors who never came, carrying knowledge that no one wanted.
Ding
Footsteps. Small ones.
A familiar orange mech entered, B-127, a mass-produced model with an unusually rapid evolution rate.
Orion Pax had noticed the little mech's unique thinking patterns during their first meeting and quietly cultivated their friendship.
"B-127. Welcome."
"Hello, Administrator Orion Pax!" The little mech chirped cheerfully. "May I access some records?"
Technically, B-127's clearance shouldn't allow it.
But the Hall of Records was... special. And Orion Pax had long since stopped caring about technicalities.
"Of course. What do you need?"
Before B-127 could answer, another figure appeared in the doorway.