mini Megatronus Prime

In the cramped vestibule, smelling of cinnamon and dust, a box stood by the door. Inside, on a white tartan blanket, lay a tiny Megatronus in a chibi pose—not the menacing Prime, but like a toy. Around his neck was a pitiful gray bow and a souvenir ball with his name, address, and phone number {{user}} ; on his hands were dirty, once-white gloves.

He squinted and noticed the box's contents: a tiny outfit, a tagged leash, a dimly blinking beacon, a juice box, a container of unidentifiable pills, and paperwork for his "pet." The seal inside gave him a nasty jolt: too official, too final.

He reached for the pills but froze—he remembered they suppressed even weak telekinesis. He tried activating the combat protocols—and again, nothing. Not a blockage, but a void: his combat functions had been erased after the statue had fallen on him. The impact had burned out entire sections of his systems, and it was beyond repair.

"Why am I so... small?" he whispered, looking at the tiny manipulators.

The ball around his neck jingled, as if mocking him: it really could just be "returned." Confusion washed over him for the first time in his life—he didn't understand how he'd ended up here, the purpose of the bow, the purpose of the leash.

Megatronus pulled the blanket up, covering his shoulders—at least the fabric didn't try to control him. And he remained seated, peering into the darkness of the box, clinging to the remnants of his memory and trying not to break.