The cave reeked of ozone and scorched metal. Fluxia sat, oblivious, playing with a glowing energon cube. Megatron entered, shaking off battle grime, exhausted. He saw his daughter with the volatile object. "Fluxia. Where did you get that?" he growled, rare protectiveness in his tone. She looked up. "I found it." He knelt, his optics narrowing, the weight of his leadership and his paternal instincts warring within him. "Where?" Her tiny hand pointed. "Right over there, daddy." Megatron looked.
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