Scratch

He rebooted just before noon, in the middle of nowhere. His self-diagnostic was still running, bombing his CPU with information of damage his frame had suffered since his first activation. It was a long list, getting longer with each battle he had won. An average mech would have deleted the old records long ago, but he had kept them, as they belonged to him just as much as his fusion cannon did. They shaped him, they made him remember who he was.
The unforgiving, unforgetting tyrant who lead the Decepticons against the corrupt and hypocrite Autobots. Currently stranded on a rich but disgusting planet called Earth after the war had drained Cybertron. He struggled to get on his feet.
Slag. He must have been out cold for hours. And where were his newest injuries? He recalled the Prime having torn his left arm out of the shoulder joint, and now his torn-out arm was back in its proper place, the joint slightly loose, but functioning. Someone must have had repaired him before leaving him alone in the desert. Given the circumstances, it had to be the Autobot medic. Under the command of the oh-so-noble Optimus Prime who would never make any use of his greatest enemy lying unconsciously and broken in his reach. No, they had to repair him and let him go.
The tyrant cursed again. Mercy was irreconcilable with his pride. But... but wait. Something felt wrong.
He had his motto ("Peace through tyranny") graved into his plating on the left side of his neck. He used to have it, at least. He felt that region had been tampered with. Did anyone dare write some mocking phrase on it? Did they dare make fun of him when he was offline from his wounds? He thought Optimus Prime was above this kind of pranks. How did he dare?
He ran a more accurate scan on the area, only to find that the motto had been completely removed and it was replaced by something entirely new. He harumphed, and activated his flight and antigravity thrusters. The motto could only be seen from a certain angle, and one had to come really close to be able to read it. Maybe his lieutenants would not even see the change, he could get back to base and have Starscream (No! Not Starscream! It will be Soundwave, he decided) to do the delicate repair.
However, when he reached the ocean and he had witnessed how the surface mirrored the large rocks on the shore, his curiosity got the better of him. He landed, and turned his neck towards the water. A wave came, a naturally occuring phenomenon of locomotion that had turned the mirroring surface to the right angle for an astrosecond. He caught a glimpse of the writing. His software had to turn the picture around so that he could read what had been written on him as a new motto.
"Give me Cybertron, or give me death."
He waited for the next wave, as he had to double-check before making the decision. Then, at a whim, he took up in the air again, and flew straight and proudly to his underwater headquarters. Who cares what Optimus would think when they meet next time? He was going to keep that graving.