Returned With A Hunger (Fanfic Part 1)
Notes TFP and Skybound comics universe used as inspo Part 1 WD 1775 Horror Fanfic
“Our Lord Megatron has fallen!”
The declaration tore through the Decepticon warship like a shockwave. And almost as quickly as it spread, Starscream settled into command as though the throne had always belonged to him. To silence any lingering doubt, he ordered Soundwave to drag Megatron’s ruined frame before the gathered Decepticons.
There was no mistaking death. The survivors of the battle all told the same story. The Autobot scout Bumblebee had delivered the final strike — a blast that tore a cavernous hole straight through Megatron’s chest plating.
Now the body stood on display. A monument to Starscream’s ascension. A warning.
A corpse propped upright beneath dim violet lights while Vehicons stood guard at every entrance, optics fixed and weapons primed. The stench of scorched metal still clung to the ruined armor. Blackened cracks split across the tyrant’s frame like dried veins.
And Starscream could hardly contain his satisfaction.
For once, fate had done the scheming for him. No poison slipped into energon reserves. No sabotaged repairs. No carefully orchestrated mutiny whispered in the dark. Megatron had fallen publicly, gloriously, a martyr for the Decepticon cause with hundreds of witnesses to swear to it.
Dead. Finally dead.
Or so Starscream believed.
The Decepticon fleet had watched Megatron escape death before. They had seen his spark extinguished upon cold slabs only for it to reignite hours later, burning hotter than before. Rumors spread through the Nemesis like infection — whispers that dark energon had long since hollowed him out and replaced whatever once made him Cybertronian.
Immortal. Cursed. Something no longer entirely mechanical.
Still, even Starscream had been certain this time. He had watched the light drain from Megatron’s optics himself. No spark survived a wound like that.
Yet somehow, while guards watched every corridor and every entrance, while no one dared approach the corpse without permission, Megatron rose.
No alarms sounded. No one saw him stand. One moment the body remained slumped against the restraints.
The next… it was gone.
Those loyal to Megatron called it a miracle. Others avoided speaking of it at all.
The Seekers and lower-ranked Vehicons found it easiest not to question the change in their commander. Soldiers survived by obeying. Thinking too deeply about things aboard the Nemesis often led to unpleasant ends, usually in Shockwave’s laboratory.
Besides, wrath had always followed Megatron’s name. Long before the war, older Cybertronians still spoke of the gladiator from Kaon in hushed tones. They described a mech who fought like something starving. A warrior who smiled when energon splattered across the arena walls.
But this felt different.
Shockwave noticed it immediately. He observed everything aboard the ship. Every fluctuation in power. Every shift in atmosphere. Every abnormality. And while he ignored Starscream’s transparent delight at briefly holding command, Megatron’s return disturbed him in ways he could not quantify.
Because Megatron should not have looked this intact.
The Autobots had expected retaliation the instant word spread that the Decepticon leader had returned. Starscream eagerly launched an ambush against them, desperate to restore Megatron’s fearsome image. Seekers descended upon Autobot positions carrying the same warning:
Megatron lives. Again.
But even that felt hollow to Shockwave. Dull. Though most things outside scientific pursuit did.
So he ran diagnostics.
Megatron lay upon a metal examination table in the laboratory while Shockwave worked in silence. Purple monitors flickered across the walls, casting long skeletal shadows over the room. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and burnt circuitry.
Megatron drifted in and out of consciousness throughout the procedure.
At first his muttering was meaningless. Broken fragments of old wars. Gladiatorial arenas. Names long buried beneath centuries of violence. Then the tone shifted. His voice became quieter. Hungrier.
“I will rip the spark from your chest, Prime,” Megatron rasped.
A pause followed.
Then a low sound escaped him. Not laughter. Something wetter.
“And I will feel it twitch between my denta before I consume it.”
Shockwave’s servos paused over the console.
He had committed atrocities in the name of science. He had disassembled living Cybertronians while they screamed. Even fellow Decepticons avoided his laboratory because of the things hidden behind its sealed doors.
But this was different.
Cybertronians did not eat one another. Not Autobots. Not Decepticons. Not even during the darkest years of the war.
And yet Megatron spoke of it with reverence. Like hunger.
Shockwave continued the diagnostics in silence, though unease crawled beneath his plating. The dark energon saturating Megatron’s systems had increased dramatically since his last scan. Levels that should have corrupted processors beyond repair somehow left Megatron functional.
Worse than functional. Perfect.
The wound from Bumblebee’s blast was gone. Not repaired. Simply gone.
No scar tissue. No fractures. No trace of damage internally or externally. His frame appeared newer than before his death, polished smooth in places where old battle scars once lingered.
As though something had rebuilt him. Or replaced him.
Shockwave finalized the report and forwarded it to Starscream. If Megatron’s condition became problematic, dealing with it would fall to the second-in-command.
Starscream skimmed the datapad irritably, barely disguising his fury. He had truly believed this was the end. The blast from Bumblebee had left a crater through Megatron’s torso large enough to fit a servo through. Starscream himself had watched the tyrant’s optics dim into emptiness. For the first time in stellar cycles, he had felt hope.
And now Megatron walked the halls again as though death itself bent to his will.
Worse still, the tyrant had resumed command immediately. No grand declaration. No triumphant display before the Autobots. Just quiet orders delivered in that same cold voice.
Like nothing had happened, because why would Megatron bat an eye to rising from the dead?
Starscream snarled under his vents as he reread Shockwave’s report.
“…no exterior damage…”
“Yes, I can see that,” he muttered bitterly.
“…processors functioning within normal parameters…”
His claws tightened around the datapad.
“…dark energon saturation has risen substantially since previous diagnostics…”
Starscream froze.
Memories surfaced instantly, Cybertronians twisted into rabid husks by dark energon exposure. Mindless things that tore themselves apart in violent frenzy.
But Megatron had not degraded. If anything, his wrath cooling into something quiter. And that terrified Starscream more.
Because sometimes, when Megatron stood motionless aboard the bridge, Starscream swore he could hear something beneath the commanders helm. His engines settling into a low hum.
Slow. Heavy. Predatory.
And when Megatron turned his optics toward him now, there were moments Starscream no longer saw rage staring back.
Only hunger.
Starscream thought it best to observe Megatron and discuss further with Soundwave. No doubt he would be watching the tyrant closely as well.
An alarm pulls Starscream away from his thoughts, signaling that he is needed urgently in the ships deck.
Starscream vented irritably before turning on his heel.
When Starscream arrives, he finds Shockwave and Soundwave waiting for him. The sight not a welcome after Megatron's return. It can only mean they have orders to execute, and recently they have been rather dull.Only resource reports, scouting routes, casualty numbers, and repairs. Endless maintenance for a dying war machine pretending it still possessed limitless strength.
Purple light from the holographic displays washed across the chamber, painting both mechs in cold shades of violet.
Shockwave gestured toward the glowing data projected above the console.
“The amount of Decepticon losses will become problematic,” he stated flatly. “We have lost nearly 50% of our active forces.”
The numbers flickered across the display. Destroyed Vehicons, missing Seekers, failed energon harvests, damaged warships. Entire columns of diminishing resources.
A scoff from Starscream makes both mechs turn to him.
"Well we accomplished far more with much less!" Starscream dismisses Shockwave with a wave of his digits. He moves closer to the displace, optics analyzing the data.
Then his expression shifted.
“And I must say, Shockwave…” A smug grin slowly pulled across Starscream’s face. “You have become sloppy.”
“It says here we only lost twenty percent during the recent ambush and battle.” His wings twitched upward with satisfaction. “So where exactly are you pulling these exaggerated figures from?”
Shockwave stared at him for several seconds before responding.
“The battle losses are not the issue.”
Starscream expression falters for a moment. "What else could it possibly be?"
Shockwave reached forward and expanded another section of the report. New figures filled the screen.
Missing personnel.
Not destroyed.
Not confirmed dead.
Gone.
The command deck dimmed slightly as the hologram shifted. Suddenly, hundreds of names scrolled across the projection in endless columns Vehicons, Seekers, infantry units, even several officers.
Starscream's gaze hardned watching the names fly over the display.
"Explain. Now!"
Shockwave folded his servos behind his back. “Since Lord Megatron’s return, Decepticons have disappeared from various sectors of the Nemesis. At first the losses appeared isolated. Acceptable. Easily attributed to poor maintenance or desertion. “But the disappearances have accelerated.””
Soundwave then suddenly activated a recording.
Security footage.
Brief flashes of movement too distorted to identify.
Starscream felt something unpleasant twist low in his fuel lines.
Audio crackled through the bridge speakers.
At first there was only static.
Then footsteps.
Metal scraping softly against metal.
Followed by a wet sound.
Tearing.
A Vehicon’s frightened voice whispered through the recording:
“W-Who’s there…?”
Silence.
Then screaming.
Not the sharp cry of a soldier under attack.
Something far worse.
The screaming became distorted halfway through, choked off abruptly with a crunching metallic snap.
The recording ended.
For the first time since entering the bridge, Starscream’s wings lowered uneasily.
Shockwave enlarged another image onto the display.
What remained of a Vehicon.
Or pieces of one.
The frame looked ripped apart rather than blasted. Armor plating peeled open. Internal wiring hung loose like exposed organs. Entire sections of the torso were simply… missing.
Not scavenged.
Consumed.
Starscream stared at the image.
“No Autobot weapons leave marks like this,” Shockwave observed calmly.
Soundwave’s visor flickered.
“Observation: incidents occur primarily during Nemesis night cycles. Surveillance interference precedes each disappearance.”
Starscream’s processors raced. A cold realization slowly crept beneath his plating.
“No,” he muttered instinctively.
Shockwave turned his singular optic toward him.
“There is an additional detail.” He paused. “Dark energon residue has been discovered at every scene.”
The command deck suddenly felt far too quiet.
Starscream looked back toward the casualty report, then toward the endless dark corridors stretching beyond the bridge entrance. His memory also recalling reading Shockwave's diagnostic report.
Starscream was not fond of what they were alluding to.
And for the first time in stellar cycles, the Decepticon second-in-command felt genuine fear crawl through his circuitry.
Because Megatron had returned from death before. But maybe what had risen from the dead was no longer their leader.
