He jerks slightly, body unaccustomed to the renewed freedom. He doesn't know what to do. There is a voice, trying to calm him down. Telling him its safe. But the voice doesn't match all their faces. He shudders, exhales.

He rolls, trying to gain some sort of leverage, pointing his weapon at them, unsure of where to strike first. Unsure of who to trust. The voice urges him that its okay. But he can see in their eyes that it isn't okay.

He's scared, terrified. He's abso-fucking-lutely frightened for his life. He has stared down one of the greatest evils. He remembers s how he did not fear, but stood valiantly. But now he's reduced to this shaking mass as he points his weapon to another set of those god awful eyes.

That's what it is. Megatron never did anything but hurt anyone. He wore his malevolence about him like a cloak, a testimony to his ruthlessness. But next to these creatures, Megatron was childs play. Theseā€¦these monsters, who masqueraded as "kind." Lying about what was "right."

Were they worth saving? He tried to gain a foothold of control in he situation as the voice continued to soothe him. Tried to get his mind off of it. Because he could see, even from his slantways perch, they didn't want to let him go. They were going to keep him forever.

He was shaking with fear as he identified Sam. His whole body vibrated lightly against the metal as he tried to put on a strong front. Scare them. He knew it was futile. You cant scare evil. That's what they were.

Sam wasn't evil. It struck his as a random thought, but as he glanced into his eyes, he didn't see that malice. Sam was his friend. If Sam said it was going to be okay, then it was going to be Okay.

He drew back his weapon. He had no foothold in this place. He was the "scary robot," come to protect the humans. Did they really need it?