Martin had anticipated the waves he was causing, but he had no interest in dwelling on them. His future lay far beyond Earth, across the boundless multiverse, where he would confront ancient deities and mighty alien races.
A little turbulence on Earth? Hardly worth his attention.
"Megatron, the supreme leader of the Decepticons. A living legend. Ruthless. Blood-soaked..."
Martin cruised leisurely in his Beetle, and anyone attempting to tail him quickly regretted it. With a mere thought, he activated any tech they carried—phones, vehicles, surveillance drones—and sent them careening off in the opposite direction.
He simply didn't like being followed.
He returned home without incident.
The first floor of his building served as a repair garage; the second, his living quarters. A perfect fusion of work and life, this was Martin's sanctuary.
With a solid clang, the front door slammed shut. Martin closed his eyes... and summoned Megatron.
A dark cube materialized in his palm, humming with mechanical resonance. Brilliant light surged from its core, and within moments, a towering figure emerged in the heart of the garage.
Ten meters tall, his form was a symphony of silver; sleek, menacing, and regal. Razor-edged contours caught the light like unsheathed blades. When those crimson optics flickered open, torrents of data surged behind them, and the air grew thick with the scent of metal and blood.
...
[MEGATRON]
[Faction: Decepticon High Command – Supreme Leader]
[Personality: Cold-Blooded (+30% Decisiveness)]
[Height: 10 meters]
[Energon Output: 10 Million units]
[Status: Optimal]
[Combat Rating: Tier 4]
[Signature Quote: "Decepticons, rise up!"]
[Evaluation: Master of the Decepticons, the ultimate icon of Decepticon faith. His cold, calculating nature grants him unparalleled clarity of judgment, always placing strategy over sentiment.]
...
As Martin took in the imposing mech before him, streams of data instantly filled his mind—Megatron's full profile down to the condition of each and every bolt.
Megatron loomed in silence. Then, lowering his massive frame, he knelt on one knee. The moment his red optics locked onto Martin, the malice and bloodlust that pulsed behind them softened, just a little.
"My creator... Megatron pledges his unwavering loyalty to you. To execute your will shall be my life's highest calling. Though... if possible, I'd prefer leading a strike force of my own."
Martin grinned.
"Excellent, Megatron."
He circled the towering war machine like an art critic admiring a masterpiece. And it was a masterpiece. Megatron was built for carnage, his frame a living weapon, every curve engineered for optimized battlefield efficiency.
Megatron was born of war. Peace and tranquility had no place in his shadow, only fire, steel, and screams.
Martin let out a low whistle of admiration.
"Megatron, tell me... do you know Optimus Prime?"
"Optimus Prime?" Megatron's processors whirred. "He appears in my databanks. We've never met in person, but from what I've compiled, he's the kind of self-righteous idealist I despise. Always preaching about compassion and equality. Tiresome."
He tapped the side of his metal skull with a metallic clang, retrieving the relevant files. His expression twisted with disdain.
"And the worst part? He's from a civilian background. A glorified maintenance bot. Lean. Undersized. Weak."
That last jab wasn't entirely wrong. At 8.5 meters tall, Optimus Prime was visibly shorter than Megatron's ten-meter war frame.
Most of the Decepticon high command hailed from military-grade frames—tanks, bombers, heavy artillery. Power, size, and destruction defined them.
Suddenly, a soft knock echoed through the silent night.
Martin turned, smiling faintly. He'd sensed the visitor's approach long before the knock. In a city of steel and circuits, even one as vast as New York, he knew every cog, every signal. The mechanical systems scattered across the urban sprawl served as his personal surveillance web.
Still, he hadn't expected this particular visitor to act so quickly.
With a snap of his fingers, the garage door opened on its own.
A weary figure stepped hesitantly inside—scruffy, grizzled, with tired eyes hiding a mix of anxiety and hope. A small Transformer detached from the man's wrist, having guided him here. Its mission complete, the tiny mech scampered away.
"Dr. Banner. Welcome. I didn't expect you to come this soon," Martin said, arms open in a warm gesture. His smile was genuine, as though reuniting with an old friend, which, in a way, he was. He knew the Hulk well, through lifetimes of comics, cartoons, and cinematic memories.
Bruce Banner rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.
"Uh... sorry to show up this late. Took a bit to shake the military. I know you've just defused a major incident. You should be resting... but I didn't have much choice."
He stepped further inside, then froze.
Megatron towered before him like a chrome colossus, his crimson optics locked on the new arrival. And though mechanical faces don't quite smile, what passed for one on Megatron's was enough to send a chill down Banner's spine.
------
AN: Some have raised concerns about Magneto's potential to overpower Transformers due to his mastery over metal. However, according to the official Marvel crossover comic Avengers vs. Transformers, Cybertronians possess a unique life-generated magnetic field that resists direct manipulation. For example, Iron Man's "Anti-Transformer Armor" made its debut in that same storyline, confirming that while Magneto's powers affect many forms of metal, he doesn't completely counter Cybertronians.