#make it mine

Predaking soared through the inky night sky, learning the strange Earth constellations so he might one day navigate by them, should his other systems fail him. He did not like this planet, or the weak creatures that inhabited it. It made him miss Cybertron, but even that wasn’t home anymore; the pathetic Cybertronians that had supposedly evolved from him had changed his planet in ways he couldn’t even imagine.

Of course, the new Cybertronians weren’t entirely weak. Just that morning during a weapons test, one of the vehicon soldiers had missed their target and shot through the metal on one of Predaking’s wings; Predaking tore the soldier’s head from his body for that mistake. Despite killing the vehicon, Predaking found that the damage to him was far more that physical; it had made him look weak, and that was completely unacceptable. Loathe as he was to admit it, Predaking knew the Decepticons’ weapons were getting stronger, thus making their reliance on him weaker; how long would it be before Megatron ended their frail alliance?

Consumed with hateful thoughts and wounded pride, Predaking searched the night sky. It was all too pleasing when he saw a Cybertronian escape pod come crashing through the Earth’s atmosphere.

‘What luck,’ Predaking thought, as if the ship was crashing entirely for his own amusement.

He followed the trail of smoke downwards, hovering in the air when the pod crashed into the desert-like landscape below, creating a large crater. Predaking would have looped in excitement if that was at all dignified. Only one of three things could be in that escape Pod and each was sure to be more entertaining than the last. If it was a Decepticon, that would be dull, for Predaking knew he wouldn’t be able to kill it, though it would at least bring him favour with Megatron if he presented a rescued soldier. A NAIL (Non-Aligned Indigenous Life-form), or coward as Predaking preferred to think them would be mildly more interesting; while it wouldn’t pose any threat in a fight, a NAIL could at least be fun to kill. The most fun would be a new Autobot to destroy; it would definitely attempt to battle him, and Predaking loved the opportunity to kill something with spirit.

Despite his lust for the scent of spilt energon and the heat of battle, Predaking had to wait till he knew which side the Cybertronian in the Pod was on. He waited for the emerging victor for a few minutes. When nothing happened, he tucked in his wings, landing on top of the round ship. He pressed his head against the hot metal, pleased when he heard scuffled foot-steps inside, followed by banging on the exit-ramp.

Upon closer inspection, Predaking found that the previous blaze had fused the ramp to the ship, making any escape impossible. Reaching down with his claws, he silently sliced through the metal, careful to make it look natural; he wanted the element of surprise when he attacked.

The inside pounding continued and this time the ramp fell down, crashing into the sand below. Thick plumes of black smoke drifted up into Predaking’s face, though it was no challenge to his strong, Preadacon optics. Finally, you stumbled out, facing away from Predaking and your ship as you fell into the sand.

‘Turn around,’ Predaking thought. ‘Turn so I can see your badge. Friend or foe? Fate, let it be a foe.’

You turned to face the wreck of your ship, though unlike Predaking who had evolved to see in the dark, you could see nothing through the smoke. Predaking blinked back surprise at the sight of you. He hadn’t seen a female Cybertronian, at least not up close like this; he’d only ever seen Arcee from afar, and in the heat of battle he could not see the more delicate frame an aesthetically pleasing body. He searched your body for a badge, seeing the remains of one on your chassis that had been scraped off, presumably during the crash.

Predaking knew he should be mad that he couldn’t tell your allegiance, but he found that he couldn’t be angry when his primal instincts were kicking in. His processor started listing off the positives about you, picking you as a potential mate to carry on his lineage in this age where mates were few and far between. You were a female, which was his preference. You were clearly tough, surviving a crash at that velocity. You were apparently capable of some manner of piloting, meaning you were used to flight. And most of all, you had survived the billions of years at war, so your genetics were valuable to him.

Transforming into his bot-mode, Predaking jumped down to greet you, playing the role of the ever-concerned passer-by.

“Fellow Cybertronian,” He said through the smoke. You spun to face the direction of the voice, pulling out your rifle and training it on his barely visible silhouette. Predaking chuckled, “Fear not, I am not here to hurt you.”

“Whose side are you on?” You demanded through gritted dentae.

Fearless and to the point; Predaking liked that about you. “Side? I am on nobodies’ side but my own. Autobots, Decepticons. None of it matters to me.”

You kept your servo steadily on the trigger, “So you’re a NAIL then,”

“I wouldn’t put it like that.” Although Predaking knew your rifle wouldn’t do him much harm, he pretended you were in control by asking, “If I approach you, will you shoot me?”

“That depends just on how close you’re planning to get.”

Predaking laughed again, walking close enough that you could see him, yet still keeping his distance, “Quite the feisty one, aren’t you? How about we keep it simple, my name is Predaking, and you are?”

“(Y/N).”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance (Y/N), now if you have any questions which I’m sure you do, I would be more than happy to answer them. However, I must first ask that you lower the gun, this is an introduction, not an interrogation.”

You lowered the rifle hesitantly, your curiosity outweighing your willingness to fight. “Where are we?”

Predaking grinned charmingly, thinking, Your new home, my Queen.

Instead, he answered, “Earth,” making the first move in taking you as his mate.