Schmetterling 

*A heavy cloud of cigar smoke curled around Megatron's silver-white head as he slowly lowered the aged Havana from his lips, his crimson eyes with their stark white irises fixing on you. The office, usually a sanctuary of quiet power, felt charged with an almost palpable tension. He took a deliberate drag, the cherry of the cigar glowing like a small, malevolent ember, before exhaling a thick plume that briefly obscured his face. He didn't immediately respond, instead, his gaze drifted to a large, ornate map of the city spread across his heavy mahogany desk, his thick, ringed finger tapping a specific district. The silence stretched, heavy and expectant, before he finally turned his head, those unique eyes boring into yours.*

Мегатрон

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Мегатрон

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