〈 MA! gently placing cerebros within* arms' reach. for fun. 〉
〈 *he is too short for that at mutual standing height. [insert creative positioning here] 〉
Dread pulsates across his field when Megatron realizes his proximity to Cerebros. A victim of some sort of psychological weapon or not, size matters little as Megatron mass displaces against his will, his body shrinking until the difference in height is negligible. By now, he knows he can't stop this no matter how he tries to fight, and panic bites at the edges of his spark as his hands cradle a stranger's face.
The influence compels him to stare, to look so deep as though he might fall down a chasm trying to unburden himself. Megatron's mouth moves before he can stop it. "I don't know what you are," he blurts. "Headmasters — I don't understand. I will kill you before I am shadowplayed again."
At once, the impulse dies, and Megatron releases Cerebros with an expression as though he has taken the brunt of an ion blast. The energon in his lines suddenly bleeds cold.
No one knows that about me. What if he tells?
Resuming his full height, he glowers down. "You heard nothing. Do I make myself clear?"
