K'oyacyi

So far the main ideas I’m working on are about the separation between the layers of the ocean and how that divides autobot and decepticon. Autobots being mainly sunlight/twilight zone creatures and decepticons being below that.

I’m kinda just imagining a ✨magical✨ universe where Cybertron is a water(oil?) covered planet but is still robotic. Trying to stick to the source where I can while still being whimsical

“… The Council and Ultra Magnus weren't my only role models." Optimus said softly, allowing his frame to relax at the seemingly simple admission. “My drill sergeant, the one who named me—he's retired now, and his name is Kup. And before I met Ratchet and the rest of you, he was probably the best person I had ever known."

"Like, an actually good guy-or-?"

“An actually good guy, thanks," Optimus assured him, smirking a bit at the clarification before relaxing again. “Up until we found the Allspark and went missing those fifty stellar-cycles, he still checked in on me every once in a while. He was the one person from my past who never blamed me for what happened to Elita-1, but... I didn't appreciate it, because I blame myself."

"… Why'd he name you Optimus?" Bumblebee asked. "I mean, I got my name because Sergeant Sentinel said I was a 'bumbler’. And Bulkhead, he said he was ‘all bulk, no brain’.”

"Ugh." Optimus shook his head. "One of these days, I swear-" He sighed. “… My first day of boot-camp, he's going down the line. One bot isn't even paying attention to Kup's spiel, so he calls her on it—and she says ‘blah, blah, blah' to his face, and then says that she wouldn't even be there if it wasn't a stepping stone to reach the Ministry of Science's military labs. Kup calls her a snob, and so he names her 'Elita-1’.” Bumblebee got himself comfortable as he listened to the story. "Another ‘bot steps forward and tells Kup to get out of her face, and Kup tries to intimidate him. This second ‘bot, he doesn't move—just stays between Kup and Elita. So, as much as Kup hates his attitude for the rest of our training, he kinda respects the fact that he stuck his neck out for a stranger—so, he decides to call him 'Sentinel’.” Optimus took a deep vent. "And he keeps going down the line, asking while we're all there, and he gets to me. And he asks me, even though he-... Well, he already probably knows the answer.”

"Why's that?"

"My upbringing was... atypical." Optimus said. “And while I knew that I was good at what I was there to perfect, I wasn't very comfortable around my peers—bots my own age or younger—and... I honestly didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. Everyone else seemed to know the plan, but they didn't really clue me in." He shrugged. "So, I just say... I want to be able to help people. And a lot of the other cadets start to laugh at me, but Kup shuts them up—and he asks, and how do you plan on doing that? And I say... however I can. He calls me optimistic, then... ‘Optimus’.”

Bumblebee opened his optics and gazed at the floor. "What the frag did they do to us, Prime?" He spoke like his spark was in his throat. "It didn't-…”

"It didn't have to be this way," Optimus said. "No, it didn't.” He closed his optics. “… We were kids."

“We still are." Bumblebee whispered. “I get why Ratchet and Wheeljack call us ‘kids’, now... They didn't wanna let anyone take that away from us."

“… It’s already gone.”

A moment of silence followed.

“Nah.”

Optimus opened his optics. “What?”

Bumblebee was smiling at him. “Prime, you might not wanna admit it for some reason, but you’re no fossil and you’re no- What does Wheeljack like to call Ultra Magnus, when he’s real fed up?”

“Do you realize how little that narrows it down?”

“Marble statue,” Bumblebee decided, and his leader blinked. “You’re not… stone. Rust. Dead. Done. Y’know? You’re still young, still learning and still growing—just like the rest of us knuckleheads just trying to figure it all out.” He sat back. “… They haven’t taken it away from you. Don’t try to convince yourself that they have, and take it away from yourself all on your own. They… don’t get to control you anymore, remember? They sent us away, and… we realized that was a good thing.” He nodded. “And we are going home, after this—back to Earth, and Detroit, and the lives that we fought for… the lives we deserve, with our family.” He glanced away. “Even if it’ll never be the same, again… They’ll never take it all away.”

Optimus stared at his teammate, stunned, then he managed another tired grin. “And you really wondered why I like talking to you.”

…

…

Armor repaired and polished.

Statements ready. Facts checked.

Bumblebee by his side, ready to act as… ‘scary dog privilege’, as the younger ‘bot had put it.

Optimus appreciates the thoughtful company, though it did not ease his anxiety during the trip to Tigatron Stadium. His spark hammered in his chest, and he squeezed Bumblebee’s servo a little tighter than was probably appreciated as their transport landed—knowing he’d have to let go soon, for the sake of their public appearances.

If his friend minded, he didn’t let on.

Bumblebee just stayed close as the Elite Guard cleared a path for them to enter the stadium, and Optimus moved as quickly as was permissible to get the both of them inside. Detroit had done nothing to make Optimus more comfortable in the face of a crowd, and it was really showing.

The two Autobots were escorted towards a private chamber to await the beginning of the trial, and they were almost there when a familiar face appeared out of an adjacent hallway.

“At ease, Cliffjumper,” Alpha Trion chided gently, and the leader of their escort calmed. “I simply wished to visit with a former student of mine. Would you mind it if I escorted our esteemed guests the rest of the way?”

Cliffjumper seemed conflicted. “Sir, it is my duty to maintain their security—in light of the sensitive testimony they are to deliver.”

Alpha Trion chuckled. “I assure you, they are in safe servos. Why don’t you go and get a good view for the trial? I wouldn’t want you to miss a thing from this historic occasion.”

Cliffjumper hesitated only a moment more, then nodded and took his leave.

“Alpha Trion, sir,” Optimus greeted, his own sense of trepidation not yet ceased.

“Optimus.” Alpha Trion looked at him with that familiar warmth that had always been so strange, among his mentors. “How good to see you.” He looked to the Prime’s smaller companion. “And your name, it is Bumblebee?”

Bumblebee nodded. “Yessir.”

“I need to have a word with you, both of you,” Alpha Trion explained, turning—and the younger Autobots exchanged glances before following the council-‘bot in a continued trek down the hallway. “We must conclude before we reach the chamber. The cameras here record video, not audio—but the chamber is properly bugged.”

“You’re warning us?” Optimus asked, surprised, as he caught up to walk side-by-side with Alpha Trion—with Bumblebee coming to his other side.

Alpha Trion’s optics narrowed. “They know that you removed the monitors from your guest suite, and were not pleased—but not for the reasons you may think. They’re calling for a new Magnus.”

Optimus’s optics widened. “Sentinel?”

“There are some who would prefer that,” Alpha Trion conceded. “But Sentinel is not the one who returned the Allspark to Cybertron and brought Megatron here in chains.”

“… Me?” Optimus felt his fuel tank drop. “No, no. I-I couldn’t be-”

Alpha Trion sighed. “You have been isolated from Cybertron, these past few days—whether you have realized it or not. It is what the public cries out for, young Prime.”

“Ultra Magnus is getting better,” Optimus argued.

“Ultra Magnus’s position has been destabilized, for the first time,” Alpha Trion explained. “There are many who believe that it is time for him to step down. It is only a question of whether he will accept this quietly, and if what will take his place will be for the better.”

Optimus felt uneasy. “What do you believe?”

“Admittedly, I was uncertain until your meeting with the Council,” Alpha Trion said shamelessly. “I knew that you had grown powerful, Optimus. But that? That was strength.” They were approaching the chamber doors. “Our time is up. We shall talk more at a later date.”

“Alpha Trion, sir.” Bumblebee turned to face the elder ‘bot. “What exactly are we walking into?”

Alpha Trion regarded him, then sighed. “… Stay close to each other. Keep your words calm, and measured. Think before you speak. And please, do understand… this is your chance to tell every Autobot the truth. Don’t waste it.” The council-‘bot turned away. “Good luck.”

Optimus and Bumblebee watched Alpha Trion walk away, then Bumblebee looked at Optimus with uncertainty. “I get the feeling that there’s something he wants us to do.”

Optimus nodded. “Me, too.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“Not really.”

“Great.” Bumblebee crossed his arms. “I was worried I was the only idiot here.”

Optimus just shot him a look.

…

The trial of Megatron was exactly as Optimus had feared it would be.

The stadium was packed with spectators, all of them vying to get a glimpse of the Decepticon warlord in chains.

The floor had been formatted into a makeshift council chamber—with proper stations for the members of the Autobot Council, prosecution, defense, witnesses and testimony… an actual cage that was obviously far too large to hold just one restrained Decepticon… and VIP seating.

Optimus and Bumblebee were escorted to sit on the side of the prosecution, in the first row of the VIP section—and from there, they were able to see firsthand why the cage was there.

All of the Decepticons they had ever encountered on Earth or Cybertron were led out and placed into the cage, put on display to watch the public downfall of their leader from behind bars.

The VIPs, who were taking their own seats, took their time to look upon them each with wariness, hatred, disgust, and a morbid curiosity.

Like they were animals in a zoo.

They were Optimus’s enemies, but… this all felt so very, very wrong. He felt sick, and… angry.

Angry, on behalf of the ‘bots he should hate most.

Angry, when Prowl was dead in a casket.

What was the universe coming to?

The High Council members processed and took their seats, with the spot meant for the acting Magnus—positioned above Halogen—left open.

No Ultra Magnus, then.

Why did Optimus feel relived?

Finally, the time arrived.

Sentinel led Megatron out in stasis cuffs and chains, flanked by the Elite Guard’s finest—though Optimus noted the obvious absence of the Jettwins, and he tried not to worry about it.

Or about how Megatron didn’t have a scratch on him, and processed with his head held high.

He didn’t look humiliated, defeated.

Even as Sentinel chained him to a round platform before the Council, he remained on his feet with the posture of someone in complete control.

It unnerved Optimus, especially as he realized that the other Decepticons—like their leader—were not just mended but shining. They also stayed on their struts and kept their heads high.

It was… sort of… admirable.

Sentinel remained at the side of Megatron, his lance and shield ready, poised like the picture of a perfect Elite Guardsbot—but then, Halogen shot him a look and cleared his throat.

Sentinel blinked, then tensed before awkwardly putting his weapons away and making his way up to the position of acting Magnus. He took his seat, seeming uncomfortable—and Optimus felt his anger quietly bubbling up again.

They were turning his friend into a figurehead.

Sentinel was many things—but an office-‘bot content to sit quietly, complete paperwork, make public appearances, and do what he was told?

Never.

“Ahem,” Sentinel began, tense. “The High Council of Cybertron convenes on this day, two million years since the end of the War for Cybertron and the Exile of the Decepticon scourge, to determine the fate of Megatron: Decepticon warmonger. Having once been granted the mercy of exile, Megatron now stands accused of attempting to reignite the war through malicious control over the Allspark—font of all Cybertronian life—as well as authorizing or even participating in attacks on Cybertronian civilians and enlisted Autobots, repeated attempted invasion of Cybertron by the commandeering of space bridges and the original Omega Sentinel, construction of an unregistered space bridge and three Omega Sentinel clones, and the attempted assassination of Ultra Magnus. These are but the chiefest of your expansive list of post-war crimes. How do you plea?”

Megatron’s crimson optics had narrowed. “… We do not attack civilians.”

Sentinel blinked. “What?”

“We do not attack Cybertronian civilians. There is no need,” Megatron repeated as silence fell in the stadium. “And I would have you immediately strike that egregious lie from my record… unless you can produce the evidence.”

Optimus felt his shoulders raise in agitation. The Decepticon warlord certainly had no qualms about the attack of civilians on Earth, after all.

Sentinel checked a data-pad, his optics narrowed, then he blinked in surprise before sighing and glancing up. “Very well. I’m not sure who put that in the opening statement, but… as far as I can tell, we have no record of an attack of a Decepticon on a civilian Cybertronian since the exile. All of the recorded casualties I can find have been officially enlisted Autobots.” He glanced over at the court records-‘bot. “Strike it.”

Megatron watched Sentinel appraisingly, then he nodded. He did not speak again.

“Be that as it may.” Halogen began, glowering at the Decepticon. “You are responsible for mass Autobot casualties since the exile. Decepticon vagabonds have attacked our ships, taken space bridges, infiltrated our ranks—and these past fifty-two years, your efforts to claim the power of the Allspark and bring the war back to Cybertron cannot be denied.” He gestured. “The Council calls upon Optimus Prime, commander of the starship Orion and its staff of space-bridge repair ‘bots, to deliver a brief testimony regarding the events on planet Earth.”

Optimus tensed, having not expected this to happen so soon—then cleared his throat as he stood. “Uh… Define ‘brief’, sir.”

“We want the facts only,” Perceptor replied.

“Very well.” Optimus nodded, then he glanced one last time at Bumblebee before he made his way over to the witness stand—passing in front of Megatron, and feeling that burning gaze.

Optimus arrived at the stand and took a seat, gazing at the microphone before him like it was a live grenade—and not even one of Wheeljack’s.

Alpha Trion was right.

He had one chance.

Just the facts.

Just the truth.

“… Fifty-two stellar cycles ago, my teammates and I were tasked with removing the debris from a space-bridge in remote quadrant within Autobot territory,” Optimus began, straightening his posture. “My team then consisted of five, including myself.” He gestured to his companion, who perked up. “Bumblebee, maintenance ‘bot second-class, and one of the fastest ‘bots you’ll ever meet—both in wheels, and in thinking.” He saw his friend smile. “Our medic was Ratchet: the field-tech who twice rescued Agent Arcee and her codes, and who became the first to mentor an Omega Sentinel. He is the longtime caretaker of Omega Supreme.” Optimus’s spark was pulsing wildly, but he kept going. “We were fortunate enough to have Bulkhead, the galaxy’s top space-bridge technician and someone who is as strong in mind and spark as in body, working alongside us as well.” He took a deep vent. “Lastly, we came across a cyber-ninja named Prowl during our travels, and he joined our team in return for safe passage home at our earliest convenience.” That felt… wrong, despite its truth. “As we worked, the space-bridge behaved erratically and sent debris flying. When it was over, I discovered something glowing among the rocks and uncovered it. The Allspark.” His optics narrowed as he thought of that… thing. “Our ship’s artificial intelligence, Teletran-1, immediately alerted us to an approaching Decepticon ship—and we took action to protect the Allspark at all costs.” He glanced up at Sentinel. “I called for help. Sentinel Prime answered the call, at first disregarding me on account of how fantastic my story seemed, then put me straight through to Ultra Magnus… who told me to sit tight and wait.”

Botanica folded her servos and leaned forward, her optics narrowed. “With the Allspark in your cargo hold and the Decepticons approaching?”

“Exactly my thoughts,” Optimus admitted. “That is why I disobeyed my orders.” He could hear gasps and murmurs from around the stadium. “With Omega Supreme’s weapons’ system disabled, I was forced to get creative as Megatron boarded—but, as fate would have it, Starscream valued killing Megatron more than obtaining the Allspark. I… do admit that it was easier to subdue Megatron after he’d already been blasted apart by one of his own.” A glance at Megatron showed one of the warlord’s optics twitching in agitation. Good. “Between the explosion and interference by the Allspark, we lost all control of the ship and were transported across the universe. We began careening into Earth’s atmosphere, and I saw my opportunity. I opened the hatch in the cargo hold and kicked Megatron out, where he proceeded to burn up on re-entry.”

“Wait, you never told me that part!” Bumblebee stood up, absolutely delighted. “Frag, man—that is AWESOME!”

Optimus sighed. “Bumblebee.”

The smaller mech raised his servos and shrugged. “Sorry, not sorry.”

Sentinel groaned. “Stadium. Live broadcast.”

“Still not sorry, sarge.”

“The ship was still falling,” Optimus continued. “With Megatron gone, my priority was protecting my crew. We entered into emergency stasis, and we only woke up fifty stellar-cycles later because a foreign contaminant alerted Teletran-1.” He glanced away. “No one had found us, or the Allspark. It was nearly a year later when we learned we had been presumed dead.”

Sigil hummed. “Sentinel Prime’s eulogy was rather… stirring.”

Optimus blinked. “Wait, what?”

Sentinel just snorted.

“Continue, Optimus,” Alpha Trion advised, his optics never leaving the young Prime.

“On Earth, my team faced much adversity—from Decepticons, humans, and other forces,” Optimus went on, trying to regain his focus. “And as we faced that adversity, our enemies seeming to multiply by the day, our team and list of allies grew. Sari Sumdac. Jazz. Arcee. Professor Sumdac. The Dinobots. Captain Fanzone. Blurr. Even Wreck-Gar and Scrapper came to help us, when we needed them.” Somehow, Optimus found himself smiling. “And by some twist of fate, an Autobot from another universe fell into our lives—and more than that, he chose to stay and to help. To use his own experiences to guide us, so that… we could win the battles his universe couldn’t… wven the battles that are hard to see.” He looked up, optics narrowed. “And one of his many warnings was that Megatron would return. From a very early time, we knew that something was working against our team—in the shadows—on Earth. There were many inexplicable thefts and acts of sabotage, which all came to a head when Megatron burst out of Sumdac Tower.” He gestured. “A secret study of his remains had allowed Earth’s people to rapidly advance their technology, but it had also allowed the energy of the Allspark to come into contact with him and—while he was just a head hooked up to wires—orchestrate many of our hardships.” He shot a glance at the warlord. “I cannot overstate how dangerous Megatron truly is. He was able to coordinate his own rescue and revival, and then proceeded to target the Allspark once more.” He closed his optics. “Overwhelmed with no hope for reinforcement, with the enemy of the Autobots holding the Allspark in his chest, I did the only thing I could think to… I shattered it.”

As more gasps and murmurs rang out, Contrail just seemed fascinated. “And Megatron survived that, as well?”

“Evidently,” Optimus replied. “My actions bought us time, but led to a race to collect the fragments as they wreaked havoc upon the human city of Detroit—making technology run rampant, even bringing it to life. Megatron also wrought havoc upon Earth while preparing for his final goal: to overtake the space-bridge network and take Cybertron by storm, with help from teams across the universe and Shockwave here on our own planet. He and his followers damaged the city repeatedly, took hostages, threatened lives, and almost succeeded in their plan. If not for his own rash actions and the heroism of Omega Supreme, he would have.”

Avalon raised an optic-brow. “Hm.”

“But Omega Supreme’s actions to save us and Earth made him vulnerable, and Megatron is well-versed in taking advantage of vulnerability,” Optimus went on. “The trusting, the traumatized, the trapped—he targets them and exploits them. He manipulated Omega Supreme, stole Arcee’s codes, and laid siege on Earth so that he could test his Sentinels out on a human population before he waged war on Cybertron.” He turned a full-fledged glare on the Decepticon warlord. “Again, Starscream’s determination to kill his own leader worked against Megatron—but this time, it was not in our favor. Starscream wanted to blast the Sentinels and everything within a hundred-mile radius of Detroit. Millions of lives, lost in an instant.” He gripped the stand. “Using the recovered Magnus Hammer, I brought one Sentinel down. After Sari and Arcee restored him, Omega Supreme brought down another. One was left. Our plan was to bring together the Allspark and use it to power a shield. Prowl and Jazz chose to use the cyber-ninja art of processsor-over-matter while I held off Megatron.” The stand creaked under Optimus’s grip. “I wasn’t there when… Prowl must have realized that he couldn’t pull in anymore, and… gave up his spark, to give the Allspark the strength it needed to save us all.” He closed his optics. “Megatron was trapped inside the barrier with the Sentinel, and I thought he’d been killed—but he was still alive, and he came after me. He blamed me, for everything… Then, Wheeljack stepped in.”

Halogen grew intrigued. “The Wrecker from another reality.”

“That’s right.”

“He defeated Megatron?”

“To the point where Megatron himself told me to finish him off,” Optimus replied quietly.

Alpha Trion tilted his head. “But you didn’t.”

“No.” Optimus looked up, optics narrowed. “I am not judge, jury, and executioner. I believe that Megatron must face the consequences for his crimes… I wouldn’t help him run away.”

Silence fell once more.

Optimus could feel millions of optics on him: judging him, analyzing, weighing his character.

It was actually scarier than fighting Megatron.

“… You, there. Bumblebee,” Botanica spoke up, and Optimus snapped out of his daze. “Do you stand as witness to your leader’s story?”

And Bumblebee nodded. “I’d stake everything on it, ma’am—and I know any member of my team as well as millions of humans on Earth would, too. You could call any of them here, and they’d tell you that same story—and… that Optimus Prime has gotta be the greatest hero of all time.”

Optimus’s optics widened as he looked over at Bumblebee in disbelief.

But Bumblebee just has a smile on his face. “‘Cause from the day we met, Prime has always been trying to be better. He’ll never think that he’s perfect, he’ll never assume he got it right—and that’s why he’s always been a great leader. He listens, and he cares about us. He sees what makes us different, and how our differences are strengths—no matter how much they drive him crazy.” He shrugged. “It used to drive me nuts, ‘cause I thought he had to be faking it. I mean, no one is just that good and kind and brave—but… Optimus Prime is. He’d give up his life to save strangers and never think twice about it. He’s the one who runs in first, puts his own spark on the line against an unknown danger before he’d even think about sending one of us in.” He laughed. “It actually drives us nuts, ‘cause we know it’s just him now! It’s… what makes him different, what makes him Optimus. No wonder he’s so tired all the time, carrying the weight of worlds on his shoulders—‘cause… he really thinks all of us are important just ‘cause we’re here, and he believes in what we can be. He just needs our help to believe in himself, sometimes.” He looked at Optimus, smiling—then, he winked. “And that’s the Allspark-honest truth.”

One chance.

And that’s how Bumblebee used it.

“We-… We shall take your statement under advisement,” Drivetrain said, having noticed the rest of the Council at a loss. “Where are the other members of your team, now?”

Optimus snapped out of it to resume his testimony. “I’m not currently keeping tabs on them.”

And Halogen snapped out of it as well. “Not even the Wrecker?”

“No,” Optimus replied, his optics narrowing. “Not even Wheeljack.”

“… Very well,” Halogen said, closing his optics, then he opened them and nodded. “The Council thanks Optimus Prime for his testimony. You may be seated.”

Optimus tried to not seem as eager to leave as he actually was. He barely would have noticed Megatron as he passed by the second time, except- “You’ll never stop seeing it.”

Optimus paused, his optics widening, then he shook his head and continued making his way back to his seat.

…

The rest of the trial preceded as expected.

The Council continued to call witnesses to tell their stories about how Megatron’s actions, direct or indirect, had led to their suffering—with heavy emphasis placed upon the “mercy” of the Exile and how Megatron had totally disregarded it.

Megatron did not react to any of the testimonies, merely standing silently as everyone spoke.

Rodimus Prime, representing Team Athenia and those who were harmed by the space bridge raids, got a mere shifting of the optics—a glance.

Everyone noticed Rodimus, though. He was so young, and to be a Prime already?

Optimus knew he had blazed through the ranks after Optimus’s own expulsion from the Autobot Academy. He was a gifted warrior.

Still, the Decepticons seemed genuinely unsettled by something about Rodimus Prime.

It couldn’t have just been his age…

Finally, the witness testimonies came to an end—and the moment Optimus dreaded had arrived.

“Having heard all of these testimonies from those your actions have impacted, I doubt that you will truly reflect upon what you have done,” Halogen stated coldly. “All the same, it is our custom to allow the accused the right to speak on their own behalf. What, pray tell, does the mighty Megatron have to say in the face of such vast and egregious evidence?”

Daylight was fading.

The trial had lasted all day. It hadn’t felt so long.

Artificial light fought to keep the darkness at bay in the massive stadium.

Optimus thought they gave Megatron a spotlight.

The Decepticon warlord closed his optics for a moment, seeming to think on Halogen’s question genuinely, then he opened them and looked up—his head still held high in regal defiance.

“… Good evening, Ultra Magnus,” Megatron spoke at long last, and the Council members actually tensed as the crowd was unsettled. The leader of the Decepticons saw this, and Optimus saw him smile. Was that… a gamble? “Come now, I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist watching this—but you won’t dare show yourself until you’re the image of strength. And I do mean image.” The warlord chuckled to himself. “Honestly, I don’t know why you try. Your loud-mouthed little stooge already circulated the pictures of your completely helpless state. Your people know that you aren’t immortal, invulnerable.” He looked up. “The façade you built is starting to crack.”

Perceptor was not impressed. “You spent fifty stellar-cycles as a lifeless, severed head in a lab.”

“And did I ever deny that? No,” Megatron replied easily, and the crowd grew even more restless. “I called out to my faithful, and they restored me. See, that’s a big ideological difference between Ultra Magnus and myself. He stands back and watches, lording over a battle like a statue—unmoved, in every definition of the word. I am a leader. I do not go on every mission—but I could go on any mission, and I have. I fight on the front lines. I let dirt and dust and Energon coat my frame as I stand beside my faithful.” He raised an optic-brow. “Why do you think, during the fifty years I was away, no new leader rose among them and they continued to follow orders? Loyalty begets loyalty. How long was Ultra Magnus in that hospital room before you sought out a far more gullible, moldable replacement?”

Sentinel was taken aback. “What?”

Halogen stood, seething. “That’s enough!”

“No. It’s never enough,” Megatron retorted. “It was never enough for you Autobots. Our conflict is as old as Cybertron itself, our factions only changing their names with the passage of time.” Optimus’s optics widened. What? His history research never indicated that. “We Decepticons have changed little over the eons. We’re not saints, any of us would admit that much—but you Autobots? You stew in corruption and call it your perfect machine so that the dull-eyed masses stay in line and allow you to shape their entire existence: their bodies, their names, their minds. Anything other than blind obedience and loyalty without question results in expulsion. Fit the mold, or be cast out.” Megatron turned his head, and Optimus froze as their optics met. “You lost some of your best, that way.” Optimus just stared back, then Megatron turned his crimson gaze upon the Council again. “Poor Elita-1, so terrified of what you Autobots would do to her after a tragic accident that she fled to my side and became my chief biological scientist.” Sentinel looked away. “And dear Optimus Prime: a proud warrior and sensible mind, sentenced to a life of maintenance duty. And why? He dared to take responsibility for the fate of his friends.”

Megatron snapped his digits, and the screens around the stadium—having been showing close-ups of the trial for the audience to see—suddenly changed.

:Cadet Optimus! Cadet Sentinel!: Ultra Magnus presided alone over a familiar chamber. :You stand accused of trespassing on an organic planet in violation of Cybertronian law, resulting in the tragic loss of Cadet Elita-1.: His optics narrowed. :Before I pronounce judgement, do you have any final statements?:

A younger Sentinel huffed, looking at his friend in accusation. :I wanted to go back for Elita, sir—but when things got glitchy, Optimus cut and ran!:

:So you’ve testified, cadet,: Ultra Magnus remarked flatly. :But I suspect there’s more to this story than meets the optic sensor.: He eyed the other cadet suspiciously. :Whose idea was it to go to this planet?:

:I was the senior cadet, sir,: a young Optimus said quietly. :Whatever happened was my responsibility.:

Ultra Magnus glanced at the young Sentinel. :Anything you’d care to add?:

:No, sir,: the young mech replied, and the current-day Sentinel looked away in shame.

:Then, you leave me no choice. Cadet Optimus, you are hereby expelled from the Autobot Academy and ineligible for service in the Elite Guard,: Ultra Magnus decreed. :I had hoped that, someday, you would achieve greatness—perhaps even prove yourself a worthy Magnus… but clearly, being a hero is not in your programming.:

The screens halted on that image.

And the stadium exploded in an uproar.

Optimus just stared at the screens in complete disbelief, feeling hollow. One of the very worst moments of his life, broadcast for the world to see—by Megatron himself.

“They did that to you?” A voice whispered, and Optimus felt like he was turning his head in water as he glanced down.

Bumblebee was staring at him. “Prime, that-… That was wrong.”

“Where is that coming from?!” Halogen demanded, regaining both of their attention—and with the microphones catching his voice, the stadium caught on as well.

“From you. From this council,” Megatron told him curtly. “True loyalty, and it was punished to save face. It was punished because Ultra Magnus had an heir apparent and expected him to be willing to do whatever it took to stay in power, to follow in his footsteps, and could not accept that young Optimus valued honor and camaraderie over power. After all, these things have all been long forgotten by your Council—for so very long, you mistake the introduction of cure as corruption.” Megatron’s optics narrowed. “Your perfect machine is nothing but a mountain of crushed sparks for this complete and utter farce of a government to stand upon. You rode on the backs of true talent to keep your power. And history is written by the winner, so your young don’t know enough to ask questions you can’t answer.”

Sigil folded his servos. “Like what?”

“… Why did no one on this council see the front lines of the war? Including Ultra Magnus,” the Decepticon warlord replied, and the Council members were taken aback. “I’ll answer that one for you.” Megatron looked out at the crowd, his face neutral. “That’s not their job. Their job is to sit here and idly watch as they send their freshly-molded fodder soldiers to die for them.” He looked at Optimus again, next. “That’s why Ultra Magnus was so useless, on Earth and against Shockwave—a spy and scientist, not a warrior. He had his precious hammer, and what good did it do? He never even swung the blasted thing, let alone marched into war. That was for lesser creatures.” He turned his gaze to the council once more, and he smiled. “Like the workers drafted to Project Safeguard, perhaps?”

And that, the mention of the Jettwins, snapped Sentinel out of his funk. “Enough!”

“If one could even call it ‘drafted’.” Megatron’s fingers clicked again, and the screens changed-

:They’re just kids, civilian kids,: this universe’s Wheeljack argued, data-pad in hand. :And they’re unconscious, they can’t give consent. They need medical attention, not… this!:

:Energon supplies continue to dwindle. New laborers are molded every day, and these two can easily be recycled if you believe they will not survive the process,: Ultra Magnus replied, visibly unmoved. :I have alotted the resources to be used specifically for Project Safeguard. If you want to save these mechs’ sparks, it will be by this means—and that is final.:

:… I want Red Alert,: this universe’s Wheeljack decided, at a loss. :If-… If we’re going to do this, it can’t just be me and Percy on the project. I want Red Alert, to monitor their vitals and manage the pain, and then… I’ll do it.:

:… Very well. I shall send for her at once. Make the necessary preparations.:

As there was more outcry from the crowd, Megatron was just getting started. “And what of your intentions with the Wrecker? Your plans of reward for his heroism?”

:What is your fascination with the Wrecker from the alternate universe?: Came Perceptor’s voice.

And Halogen’s replied. :An Autobot warframe from another universe, with Wheeljack’s mind and untold power and experience? I’m surprised that you aren’t more fascinated, you don’t need to have emotion for analysis. Ultra Magnus was going to make an emotional decision; he wanted the Wrecker gone, out of fear that his rogue voice could inspire dissent upon the masses.:

:And you do not want him gone?:

:Not until our scientists have wrung even scrap of information and use they can from him—mind, body, and spark. We just have to wait, to find an opportunity—something, anything, that we can use to take him into our custody without stirring up a fuss. I don’t care what we pin on him, I don’t care if he’s injured. We just need him alive… but that rogue voice? I can agree with Ultra Magnus on that much. That can go.:

“What?!” Optimus shouted, standing up—right at the same time as Bumblebee cried out:

“No!”

“This is the true face of your leaders, Autobots!” Megatron announced, using his cuffed servos to gesture to the mortified members of the Council. Even Perceptor’s optics had widened. “They are nothing more than cowardly bigots who cling to power by stifling anyone whose ideals differ from their own.” Megatron bared his fanged dentas, letting his anger show. “They slay, imprison, or reformat anyone who could possibly hope to stand against them. You heard it yourselves! How long will it be, until young Optimus Prime and his brave little teammates start to disappear—one by one? Into the stockade?”

The footage that appeared on the screens next was so horrific, so gruesome, that Optimus froze for a moment to stare in horror before he heard rapid vents and broke his gaze away to see how his teammate was reacting.

Bumblebee was hyperventilating, hugging himself, unable to tear his gaze away—because the images on the screen…

It was Wasp.

“Bumblebee!” Optimus finally kneeled and swept his teammate into his arms, tucking the smaller mech’s face against his chest to shield his gaze despite knowing the horrible sounds would still reach him, then he closed his own optics. “I-… I didn’t know…”

“Or into the Well itself, silenced and sidelined in the annals of history—propagandized for all they’re worth, what they truly represented forgotten?” Megatron went on as the crowd started to truly turn. “This is the restitution for sacrifice, for heroism. All you have ever been taught is a lie. You’re not priceless cogs in a grand Autobot machine. You’re puppets. Experiments. Slaves to the council.” Megatron closed his optics, his shoulders raising. “Just as we all were, before the war. A war which only the Council truly won.” He opened his optics and looked at the leaders of Cybertron with nothing but a lifetime of disdain. “The rest of us all lost.”

Avalon stood and pointed. “Guards!”

As the Elite Guard closed in, Megatron smiled. “So, Autobots, I must now ask: who do you believe that you can trust? If I may, I can also answer that question… with just two words.”

“Lord Megatron?” Halogen asked, completely outraged. “The Decepticons?”

Megatron’s expression darkened. “… No one.”

A hush came over the stadium.

Optimus looked up, his optics wide.

And then-

BOOM!

The ceiling exploded—and alongside debris, fully-armed Decepticon warriors rained down into the stadium.

The crowd panicked, scrambling to flee, while the Elite Guard flew into action to protect the Council and the VIPs.

They weren’t the target, though.

Optimus watched, still shielding Bumblebee with his own body and petrified in horror, as a warrior with a glass mask over his head removed the restraints holding Megatron—while a much larger warrior freed the other trapped Decepticons.

“Strika!” Lugnut exclaimed in delight upon being freed. “My beautiful, ferocious Strika!”

“The time for a proper reunion shall come,” she told him calmly, then she gestured to the rest of her companions. “Remove their restraints. Give their flight capabilities back, and prepare both Shockwave and Soundwave for transport.”

“Oh, goodie,” Shockwave remarked flatly.

Megatron rubbed his freed wrists, then he looked back—meeting Optimus’s optics with his own for one final time. “Hm. The truth hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Truth?!” Optimus asked. “You’re Decepticons!”

“… And who gave us that name?” Megatron asked quietly, raising an optic-brow.

Optimus didn’t mean to do it.

His gaze shifted, just for a moment. He saw the Council being escorted away by the Elite Guard.

Then, he was looking at Megatron again—and the warlord seemed genuinely surprised… before his expression actually softened, just a little bit. “No going back now, Optimus Prime. You will always see it.” Then, he was the terrifying leader of the Decepticons again—his optics narrowed as he raised his fist towards the sky. “Decepticons! Transform, and RISE UP!”

All those engines at once created a furious wind, casting debris through the destroyed stadium, and Optimus watched the Decepticons ascend and depart even as Autobot reinforcement ships arrived to give chase.

Optimus knew they wouldn’t be caught.

They wouldn’t be caught, because Wheeljack had been right along—about everything, everyone.

Something was starting.

And Optimus… couldn’t protect anyone from it, not himself and not his home and not his family.

Something was starting.

And everything was over.

“Prime? Prime! Optimus!” Optimus looked down to see Bumblebee grabbing his arm, his optics wide. “We gotta go, man.”

Optimus staggered to his struts, and Bumblebee held onto his arm as he turned and ran—and the Prime somehow followed.

They ran, and ran—making it to the hallway they had first come onto the stadium floor from, and Optimus just let Bumblebee lead the way.

His spark thundered, his mind reeled, and-

And someone was suddenly grabbing him and pulling him into a side hallway, slamming his back into a wall and pinning him there.

“Hey!” Bumblebee shouted as he doubled-back to face Optimus’s attacker.

Optimus just stared. “Sentinel?”

“Optimus, you gotta go!” Sentinel snapped, grabbing Optimus by the shoulders and then pointing towards a different door—an emergency exit. “Take your team, and leave this planet!”

Optimus blinked. “What?”

“Things are about to go to scrap in a hurry around here, and I know you. You’re gonna want to play hero,” Sentinel explained as Bumblebee lowered his fists. “This isn’t Earth, Optimus. You’ll just get yourself thrown in the stockade or killed.”

“… You were helping me,” Optimus managed.

Sentinel didn’t look away, he just held on a little tighter. “Yeah, and this is probably the last favor you’ll ever get outta me. The chaos will buy you some time, but you don’t have long before this place goes on lockdown—and if I’m ordered to arrest you, then I don’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” Optimus argued, reaching up to grab Sentinel’s wrist.

Sentinel glanced at Optimus’s servo, then looked back at him with a conflicted expression before he grew resigned. “… Go.”

“Sentinel-”

“Go!” Sentinel turned and shoved Optimus towards the door, reaching back and pushing Bumblebee forward to follow along as well. “And Optimus? Do yourself a favor… Don’t come back.”

“Sentinel.” Optimus couldn’t think. “Sentinel, I-”

“Prime, we gotta go!” Bumblebee grabbed the larger mech’s arm, his optics wide.

But Optimus couldn’t. “Sentinel!”

“… I know, buddy,” Sentinel said quietly, offering a tired smile. “Me, too.” His optics narrowed, and he pointed. “Now, GO!” Sentinel turned his back, raising a digit to his commlink. “Halogen, this is Sentinel Prime reporting. Optimus Prime and his subordinate are no longer on the grounds… and I’ve lost visual.”

Optimus let Bumblebee tug him along, then he forced himself to turn and run with his teammate—away from the stadium, the crowds, Alpha Trion and the Council, and Sentinel.

They burst through the door, and the Prime raised a digit to his own commlink. “Calling all Autobots! Calling all Autobots!”

…

…

Sari and Arcee looked up from their work as Ratchet picked up an incoming message on Omega Supreme’s monitor.

:Megatron has escaped!:

Sari gasped, covering her mouth with her hands—and Arcee carefully wrapped a servo behind her back before looking at Ratchet in dismay.

The field-tech just stared at the screen in horror.

…

:The Council will declare a state of emergency!:

In the Cyber-Ninja Fortress, Jazz lowered his digit and looked back at Drift—at a loss for words.

…

The Jettwins stared at the barracks’ screen, which had gone from reddened to full of static.

:Cybertron is about to go on lockdown.:

Behind the young warriors, Bulkhead and Wheeljack exchanged wary glances.

:And as of this moment, we are all on the run.:

…

…

Optimus gritted his dentas as he held onto Bumblebee’s servo with everything he had left.