He's gone.

Just like that.

For all the cruelty, the murder, the malice...he's gone.

It was so fast.

We've fought so much...lost so much.

Then, suddenly...it is over.

He's dead. Megatron is dead.

His remaining supporters scatter to the winds. In death, he is alone.

It is at this time I realize that my brother is dead. He's gone forever. He won't come back. He won't see the error of his ways. Things can never be the way they were. Not ever.

He's taken so much from all of us, destroyed so much inside each and every one of us. but he was still one of us.

He was a murderer, a cheat, a sadistic and cruel leader. But...he was still my brother.

A precarious feeling of uncertainty creeps over me. I should be happy. We are victorious...but some part of me can't. Part of my is crying inside. I can't let it show on the outside. Megatron was our hated enemy for centuries...but through it all...he was still my brother.

And now he's gone.