[Megatronus Prime doesn't look happy – not that 'happy' is an emotion he displays regularly nor easy to identify on those rare occasions that he does, but his frown at the moment is exceptionally severe. The last week and a half have been lousy, to put it mildly.

Losing the trail of the monster he'd been chasing, having his judgement questioned, a rather strained meeting with the other Firstforged... It all tends to wear down a mech's patience.]

I trust that the recent bloodshed has been enough to sate even the most violent appetites.

[It doesn't look like he's going to be terribly sympathetic if it wasn't, however.]

Let it be known that these circumstances – the killing of your comrades – were exceptional. On behalf of my fellow Firstforged, let me make it clear:

[He moves towards the camera, close enough that subtle flames can be seen shifting between the cracks of his armor plates and the slats in his mask. Make no mistake: he is addressing you directly, dear refugee.]

You are strictly forbidden to murder one another.

Henceforth, those who choose to ignore this decree will face corrective measures at the hands of their Firstforged. We will no longer tolerate anyone weakening our own forces with infighting. I don't care how much you may or may not like each other. Any refugee bearing a Glyph is permitted to exist within the Haven without having to fear for their life.

Should any of you object to this imposition, I welcome you to settle it with me in the arena.

[He leans back from the feed, his expression shifting from 'threat of imminent violence' to the more familiar 'general contempt for other lifeforms.']

I trust that this message has been sufficiently direct. If you have questions, make them succinct and ask them now.

[So here he is on Cybertron. Not just any Cybertron, but a young one. One untouched by centuries and millenia of war and oppression. In a way this appeals to Megatron, and he surveys the land around him with interest. The warlord stands as the highest point he can on Megatronus' temple, a small, not-so-subtle way of claiming it and everything and everyone within.

Oh yes, he's well aware of the story now. Admittedly, he did wonder for a moment if this is merely a dream, or worse. But he knows his own mind. He knows that he would never come up with something such as this. This world is far too gentle to be any product of his imagination. As it is, there is no Optimus Prime appearing out of thin air, appearing so Megatron can kill him. Over and over again.

It is the absence of Optimus that ultimately convinces Megatron that this is real.]

Ahh Cybertron... what secrets you must hold.

[He speaks softly to himself, amused and eager to begin this game. He will take great delight in seeking out and destroying each and every one of those secrets. Greatness is his destiny, something he can achieve through strength and the force of his will. The new right arm he has is a testament to this.

But now, it is time to start. He accesses the network and begins his broadcast.]

Decepticons.

Here we stand on a world untouched by our war, but I doubt that much has changed amongst us, no matter what universe we come from. It would be most tragic if any Decepticon forgets what he fights for. With this new world, we can build it up into our own image, exactly as it should have been.

[Megatron begins his little speech off with a soft, almost sincere voice. As he goes along he builds it up until each word expresses his own personal power. Years and years of public speaking has its advantages, and he has a fondness for the sound of his own voice.]

I am Megatron, Leader of the Decepticons. If there are any who share my name, then I challenge them to a battle. Accept my challenge and face me in combat, or refuse and stay out of my way like the coward you are. If I am the only one then... Come to me, Decepticons, and we shall begin anew on this world.

[He ends that speech with a graceful flourish of his hand, before adding one more thing.]

I also wish to speak with any of the Firstforged.