The Restoration: Moonracer's Branding
The revel in Kaon has begun to die down, the official celebration having lasted only one night. But the Decepticons' elation at their victory and homecoming does not simply end with dawn breaking, and everywhere he looks he sees evidence of their messy -- and sometimes violent --merrymaking.
This twilight state between celebration and restoration, between enjoyment and duty, is the perfect time for something to happen that will make an intense impression on them all.
And so they are gathered here again -- to bear witness to something that will reinforce their pride and remind them of their purpose.
He stands in the center of a wide stage, curved and sharpened decorations curling inward around him, directing all eyes to the place where he stands.
He clutches an object in one hand, a yellow sphere of metal. Those standing close can see the back of what must be a helm, severed cleanly at the neck -- but the face is pointed inward. Megatron spent long vorns as a showman, and knows what to hide and reveal.
Just beside him stands a slender rack, The tool he will use tonight hangs there, its tip flaring bright, unnatural purple, incandescent with its own inner heat, sparks of lavender lightning crackling around it.
Just at the edge of the stage, a green-painted femme kneels, waiting. He grins, his optics brightening, and calls out to the crowd.
"Decepticons, we are gathered here tonight to witness the induction and branding of a new member of our ranks. The one we welcome today hails not only from a far-off universe -- but comes to us after leaving the ranks of her universe's Autobots."
He waits for the inevitable rumbling of engines and snarling cries. Then, an answering roar and then spreads one arm wide in a gesture for silence, a blade extending in a dramatic gesture for silence.
"Listen to me," he hisses, his voice laced with the dangerous promise of what will happen to any who do not.
"Eons ago, before my revolution began, what were you? Nothing and no one. Beasts of burden for those who had appointed themselves your masters. Anger seethed within your sparks -- but none of you understood enough to know why.
"When I rose, I told you. I discovered what had been kept from you and unearthed your history and your beginnings." He clenches a fist. "But more than that -- I showed you what you were. Your might in the pits, the strength you brought to that mindless mining and forging for the benefit of anyone but yourselves? I showed you what you all knew it meant.
His optics flare. "That once, you had been warriors.
"And after that came war with our own cousins. Millennia of it. All was war. And on a world of war, some may find themselves swept up on the wrong side.
"This one heard one of us and listened. Then she heard me. And -- as with the rest of you -- the things she had been told fell away, melted down in the heat of her rekindled spark.
"And if you do not believe her vows, perhaps this will prove it to you."
He turns the helm in his hand, revealing the lifeless, dead optics in the face of the dead mech. A mech all of the Decepticons of his universe will recognize. A young and eager face, one of the latest-sparked of the last generation.
He tosses the head to the floor in front of him, where it lands with a thud and the sharp shriek of metal on metal.
"She killed to prove her loyalty -- and left her universe in fulfillment of that loyalty. How many of us could say we did as much, trapped in exile on a foreign world in a long-stalemated war?
"Our enemies have fallen -- and the tight bonds of friendship and connection that once held them together have at last been torn asunder.
"The only ones who will endure it are those who have belonged with us from the beginning. And those who earn their place here by proving as much."
He gestures again, his blade still out. This is a testament to the sparks of warriors, after all, as proven by a killing.
"Rise and come forward, Moonracer," he says.
