C195 Eve of War

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Peter stood over his uncle, fists still clenched and body tense with lingering fury. His breath came out in ragged gasps as he tried to rein in his temper, his mind racing from the confrontation.

His grandparents, visibly shaken, quickly rushed toward him, worry etched on their faces. His grandmother, her voice soft but filled with concern, called out to him. "Peter, please… calm down."

His grandfather, though a bit more composed, placed a gentle hand on Peter's arm, as if trying to ground him. "Son, we know he said some terrible things, but—please, don't let him get to you."

Peter exhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax, though the anger still simmered beneath the surface. His uncle, Michael, groaned from the floor, clutching his nose and glaring up at Peter, his expression a mix of fury and wounded pride.

"You little—" Michael began, his voice dripping with venom as he scrambled to sit up, clearly more upset about the blow to his ego than the actual pain. "You think you can just waltz into our lives, punch me, and act like you're some sort of hero? You're nothing but a fraud!"

Peter's eyes narrowed, but he kept his mouth shut, trying to ignore the insults. He didn't want to make things worse for his grandparents. But Michael wasn't done.

"And If you're really Peter, which I highly doubt," Michael spat, his voice rising, "then where the hell have you been all these years? What kind of son—what kind of man—runs off and abandons his family, only to show up now, in some kind of trouble? You're pathetic!"

Peter's jaw clenched tightly. The words stung, not because Michael was right, but because they struck a nerve. The loss of his mother still weighed heavily on him, and being thrown back into this world—after everything he'd been through in space—was more complicated than Michael could ever understand.

Peter's fists tightened, but he didn't move. He just glared down at his uncle, trying desperately not to give in to the rage bubbling inside him. He could feel the weight of his grandparents' concerned gazes on him, and that's what kept him from losing control completely.

"Michael, stop," his grandmother pleaded, her voice trembling as she looked between her two grandsons. "This isn't helping anyone."

But Michael just sneered, ignoring her. "Yeah, go on. Hit me again if it makes you feel better. But it won't change the fact that you abandoned us! You abandoned her!"

Peter had enough.

Without saying a word, he raised his hand and waved it in front of Michael's face. His voice was calm but firm as he muttered, "Sleep."

Michael blinked, his angry expression freezing for a split second before his eyes rolled back in his head. He keeled over, collapsing onto the floor with a soft thud, his breathing slow and steady as he fell into a deep sleep.

The room fell silent, the tension immediately broken by the sudden and eerie calm.

Peter's grandparents looked on in shock, their eyes wide as they watched Michael slump over, unconscious. His grandmother was the first to speak, her voice barely above a whisper. "Peter… what did you do?"

Peter sighed, rubbing his temples as he turned to them. "It's just a little Jedi mind trick. He'll be out for a while."

His grandfather frowned, looking down at Michael's sleeping form with concern. "A Jedi mind trick? Is… is he going to be alright?"

Peter nodded. "He'll be fine. He just needs to sleep it off. Better this than me killing him."

His grandparents exchanged a glance, clearly unsettled by what had just happened, but at the same time, they seemed relieved that the confrontation had ended without further violence.

"Peter," his grandmother began, her voice softer now, "we're just… so happy you're back. We don't care what your uncle says. We know you wouldn't have left us if you had a choice. Besides, you already explained everything that happened."

Peter swallowed the lump forming in his throat. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice low as he looked between his grandparents. "For everything. I never meant for things to get this messy."

His grandfather placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "We know, son. We know."

Peter let out a breath, his shoulders sagging with the weight of the moment. There was still a lot to deal with, but for now, the immediate storm had passed.

"I'll explain everything later," Peter promised. "But right now, I need to take care of something."

His grandmother nodded, her eyes soft with understanding. "We'll be here when you're done."

Peter nodded in return, his gaze lingering on them for a moment longer before he turned and left the room, the door sliding shut behind him with a soft *whoosh.*

As he walked down the hallway, his mind raced with everything that had just happened. Michael's words still echoed in his head, but he pushed them aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.

Megatron, the Decepticons, and the AllSpark—there was too much at stake for him to get caught up in family drama. He had a war to prepare for.

…

..

.

After leaving his grandparents' quarters, Peter walked briskly through the winding halls of the Red Room, his mind focused on the task ahead. The encounter with his uncle still weighed on him, but there was no time to dwell on it now. Megatron and the Decepticons were a far bigger concern, and the weight of the upcoming battle pressed heavily on his shoulders.

As Peter approached the hangar, he noticed that the atmosphere had changed. The usually quiet and efficient base was now buzzing with a palpable tension. Soldiers and staff moved quickly, fortifying positions, preparing weapons, and setting up defensive perimeters. The Red Room was a fortress, but even fortresses could fall.

Peter stepped into the hangar, which had now been converted into a full-scale briefing and command room. Large holographic displays floated in the air, showing various tactical readouts and defensive measures.

Tony stood at the center of it all, surrounded by several screens that projected schematics, energy readings, and defense grids. He looked more tense than usual, the weight of the situation clearly getting to him.

Next to Tony, Rocket was scrolling through holographic data on Red Room's defenses, muttering under his breath about adjustments he needed to make. The small but fierce raccoon was focused, his eyes darting across the screens as he prepared for the battle to come.

On the far side of the room, Optimus Prime stood tall, his presence commanding. He was speaking quietly to another Autobot, reviewing the readiness of his forces. Even in this tense moment, Optimus exuded calm and strength.

Peter walked up to Tony and Rocket first, his voice breaking through the tense air. "How are the defenses looking?"

Tony glanced up from his screen, his eyes tired but sharp. "We've fortified everything we can. The Red Room's perimeter is secure, and we've got automated turrets in place that'll fire at anything that even looks remotely like a Decepticon. Rocket and I have been going through the finer details, but we're ready for a full-scale assault at any moment."

Rocket chimed in, his voice gruff but determined. "If they try to hit us, we'll be ready."

Peter nodded, feeling some relief at their preparations but knowing it might not be enough. "Good work, both of you."

Optimus approached, his deep voice cutting through the chatter. "My ship is also prepared for battle. We have weapons primed and ready. I've stationed soldiers both on the outside of my ship and the Red Room. They're already in position, ready to fire on any hostile forces that approach."

Peter listened carefully, but a lingering question still nagged at him. He turned to Optimus, his brows furrowed in thought. "Optimus, I know this probably isn't the right time, but I need to ask you something. Has the AllSpark's power ever been wielded by anyone who wasn't a Cybertronian before?"

Optimus's optics flickered as he considered the question, his expression thoughtful. "The AllSpark is deeply connected to life itself, Peter. It has always been bound to our kind, to the essence of creation on Cybertron. But…" He paused, looking at Peter with a solemn gaze. "The AllSpark's power is not something fully understood by even us. It is a relic of creation, and perhaps, in your case, it saw something within you that allowed it to bond with you."

Peter nodded, taking in the weight of Optimus's words. The Force, something so deeply tied to life and the universe, could very well be the key to his bond with the AllSpark. "I see, thanks Optimus…"

Optimus nodded in return. "Anytime, Peter. The AllSpark's true nature may reveal itself in time, but for now, we must focus on the battle ahead."

As the conversation continued, Alfred's voice suddenly interrupted, cutting through the calm. "Master Peter, I'm detecting a strange energy signature approaching the Red Room's location."

Peter's heart skipped a beat. "What kind of energy signature, Alfred?"

"It appears to be Cybertronian in origin," Alfred replied, his tone urgent but steady. "The readings are similar to the Autobots and indicate something massive… likely Megatron's flagship or a fleet of Decepticon warships heading directly for us."

The air in the hangar seemed to freeze for a moment as the weight of Alfred's words sank in.

Tony straightened up, his expression hardening. "They're coming faster than we thought. We need to get everyone into position now."

Optimus's optics gleamed with determination. "We will stand ready. Megatron will not take the AllSpark while we still draw breath."

Peter took a deep breath, feeling the tension rise as the reality of the situation set in. The battle wasn't just coming—it was here. And they had little time to prepare for the onslaught that was about to hit them.

"Alfred," Peter said, his voice steady, "summon everyone. Tell them to prepare for an assault. Get everyone who isn't already onboard back here immediately."

"Understood. I will notify all personnel and begin defensive protocols," Alfred responded, his tone clipped and efficient.

Peter turned to Optimus and Tony. "We need to be ready for anything. Megatron won't hold back, and neither can we."

Optimus's frame seemed to grow even larger as he straightened, his voice resolute. "The Autobots are prepared for battle. We will stand with you, Peter, no matter the cost."

As Optimus spoke, Peter felt a pulse from the AllSpark, as though it were trying to communicate with him. Confused, he glanced down at it, pulling it out from under his shirt. The moment his hand made contact, a sudden clarity washed over him—he understood what it was trying to convey.

Noticing the puzzled expression on Peter's face, Tony asked, "Peter? You alright?"

Optimus glanced over, his gaze locking onto the glowing AllSpark. "What's happening?"

"I…" Peter started, his mind racing to comprehend the AllSpark's intent. "I think it wants me to use it…"

————

Meanwhile, at the far reaches of Earth's atmosphere, Megatron stood at the helm of his massive flagship, Nemesis, his crimson optics burning with cold determination. The warship's engines hummed beneath him, a low, ominous vibration that reverberated throughout the ship's vast metallic halls.

His lieutenants moved around him with precision, manning the controls as the ship cut through the night sky, concealed from Earth's primitive detection systems.

Megatron's gaze was fixed on the distant horizon, where the Red Room lay hidden from view, protected by its artificial cloud cover. It was a clever defense, but it wouldn't matter soon. The Nemesis was built for conquest, and not even Earth's most advanced technologies could stop what was coming.

He could feel the pulse of the AllSpark through the void, its power calling to him like a beacon—so close, and yet still tainted by the hands of a human. The very thought of Peter Quill, a human, wielding the sacred relic sent a fresh wave of fury coursing through him.

"This human dares to think himself worthy of the AllSpark's power," Megatron muttered, his voice low and dangerous. His fists clenched at his sides, the metal grinding audibly under the pressure. "He will soon learn the price of his arrogance."

Starscream approached from behind, his footsteps echoing through the dimly lit bridge. "We will reach their base soon, Lord Megatron."

Megatron's optics flared with a dark intensity. "Good. Prepare the troops. When we arrive, we will tear that base apart piece by piece until the AllSpark is mine. And as for this… Peter Quill…" He paused, his voice dropping to a near growl. "I will crush him under my heel and make him beg for mercy before I tear the AllSpark from his lifeless hands."

Starscream smirked, eager for the carnage to come. "As you command, Lord Megatron."

The warship continued its approach, the stars vanishing behind them as they plunged into the thick cover of Earth's atmosphere. Megatron stood tall, a towering figure of destruction, his mind set on one thing and one thing only: reclaiming the AllSpark and annihilating anyone who dared stand in his way.

The war was about to begin.

And Megatron would not be denied.

A/N: 2215 words :)

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