#sg funpub

“Hello, professor. I hope the security mechs I assigned to you were accommodating during the journey.”

Blue optics scanned the lavish room he had been left in, his face impassive as he tried to keep a semblance of decorum in front of his captor. He didn’t bother to ruin his voice box by screaming. There was no point, for Megatron knew that if there were any other bots in the large mansion, they would undoubtedly be under his captor’s orders to ignore him.

Even if they did feel sorry for him, no one would dare go against a senator.

“Senator Pax, I can’t say the journey was pleasant. Do you invite all your esteemed guests this way or am I a special case?” He refrained from rolling his optics and letting out a string of curses. He wasn’t scared of the consequences of such an action, but because he didn’t want to give the other mech any leverage over him. He’s dealt with upper class mechs before. They enjoyed it when he showed any “signs” of his “lower-class upbringing.”

“You kept blocking my attempts to call and refused to let me visit, how else was I supposed to gain your attention, professor?” The senator grinned, his pedesteps soft against the carpeted floor as he made his way towards him. Restrained as he was, Megatron could do nothing as the other mech sat on the couch across from him - their knee joints nearly touching due to the close proximity of the chair he was bound to. “Think of this as… a surprise permanent move of residency to Iacon.”

“I think, senator, that I will think of this as a case of mechnapping and abuse of authority.” Megatron gritted out, wanting nothing more than to activate his weapon system. Unfortunately, the senator had thought in advance and had assigned a medic to temporarily (at least he hoped it was) shutdown the system. “Is the rest of the senate—”

“No. This is a personal matter.” The senator reached out to a small table near the couch, pouring himself two cubes of high-grade engex. The other mech held one of the cubes out to him, a momentary look of embarrassment appearing on his face as he realized that Megatron’s arms were tied back. “Right. I can’t let you go yet so I’ll just have to spoil you later when you’re more agreeable.”

Megatron grimaced, watching as the senator placed down one of the cubes on the table, keeping the other in his servo as he settled back on the couch. He hated how relaxed the other mech was, as if this was a regular occurrence for him - keeping another mech tied while he relished in his own pompous grandiosity. This was why he hated interacting with the higher class mechs. They disgusted him.

“What does a senator want with a mathematics professor?” He vented, testing the energy ropes that bound him. The more he struggled, the tighter they got. Megatron reset his optics. Unfortunately, he was not escaping any time soon.

As he waited for the other mech to reply, Megatron tried to keep the rising panic from showing in his face. There were many reasons for why the senator had him taken captive. Though, he hoped it was merely because of his past rather than his present that was the reason for this. He had been told that there was a growing corruption within the senate, and from his findings, he knew there was a high probability that the civil war he had predicted through the theory of psychohistory would begin there. He had begun countermeasures in the form of the Decepticons but… he’d been so sure that the information hadn’t been leaked. If the senator captured him to interrogate him about that…

“Nothing.” Senator Pax shrugged, taking a slow sip of his engex. He leaned a little closer, their knee joints pressing together.

Megatron reset his optics, unable to keep the look of confusion from crossing his face. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t take it personally, professor. I’ve read your mathematical theories and they are brilliant, but I didn’t have my Wreckers capture you to discuss numbers and formulas with you.” He jolted as a servo landed against his leg strut, and the senator laughed at his reaction. “Relax, if you worry I’m here to discuss your… civil rights poems and papers, then I can assure you I’m not. As I said, this is a personal matter.”

“I don’t recall having ever slighted you.” Megatron quickly answered, wanting to tear off the other mech’s servo from himself.

It was true though. While Megatron has made many political enemies due to his writings going against Functionism, he knew that Senator Orion Pax could not be one of them. He hadn’t even been a senator at the height of his civil rights campaigns. He hadn’t even been in power when Megatron was nearly assassinated and banished from Iacon for his writings.

Still, Functionists were difficult and took personal offense at any mech that went against them. “Senator, if you have an issue with me due to my beliefs—”

“I told you, we’re not here to discuss that, professor.” The senator gave him a disappointed frown, as if he was being the unreasonable one. “I have my own opinions but we can have a friendly debate about it once you and I have settled our personal issue.”

“And what personal issue is that?” This time, he rolled his optics, uncaring for what the other mech would say.

“I’m hurt, professor.” The senator let out a soft vent, the digits of his servo tracing patterns against Megatron’s leg strut. “I had hoped that at some point in our conversation you’d have recognized me.”

Megatron gave him another cursory look, unimpressed by what he saw. “Many mechs have your paint colors and red optics are not rare.”

“Then allow me to refresh your memory banks, professor.” The senator grinned, and this time it looked familiar. “Or should I say, D-16?”

---

Act of Intimacy

Senator Orion Pax, or Optronix as he had been known then, had attended the Iaconian University at the same time as the infamous civil rights activist, Megatron.

Of course, back before the height of his campaigns, he had been known as D-16.

They were as different as two mechs could be.

Optronix was an upper middle-class mech, forged to be a librarian.

D-16 was a lower class mech, forged to be a miner.

Optronix had always known he’d have to attend university to study what he had forged for.

D-16 had clawed his way up from the mines to even gain an education.

Optronix was a well functioning part of the system.

D-16 was a loose cog that insisted that the system was flawed.

Somehow, it was love at first sight for Optronix.

They had met each other in one of Soundwave’s parties, a mech who was studying communications and was D-16’s roommate at the university.

Optronix was not the type to attend such loud parties, as they were more his older brother’s scene, but Shockwave - an acquaintance of his - had brought him along for it.

He remembered their first meeting well.

Optronix had stumbled away from the large crowd of bots, irritated by the noise and the crush of frames that threatened to nearly send him into an emergency stasis. It would be the last time he ever let Shockwave drag him into another party. If he didn’t need to keep on the future senator’s good side then he wouldn’t have even come.

He had stumbled into a room, properly venting as he closed the door panels behind him.

As Primus would have it, this was where he met the love of his life.

Optronix had looked up, his red optics scanning the room until they landed on a white frame. D-16 had had his back turned towards him, his attention focused on the datapad in his servos. He only looked up when Optronix took a pedestep forward, the sudden thud taking them both by surprise.

He had known who the other mech was from the start.

He had never met him properly before but he’d seen him around and it was difficult to not know him when D-16 could usually be found making grandiose speeches in the halls before one of the professors had to stop him. Optronix had never bothered to listen as he was usually busy with ensuring himself a bright future as the eventual head librarian of the Iaconian archives.

Which was a shame because he could have been looking at this beauty of a mech much sooner.

“I never liked Soundwave’s parties either.” D-16 had stood up from his berth (because Optronix had accidentally wandered into his room). “You could stay here, but I’m not good at… normal conversation.”

“That’s… okay.” He muttered weakly. Then, remembering his manners, he reached out a servo. “I’m Optronix.”

The other mech reached out with a smile, and the world seemed somehow brighter. “I’m D-16.”

---

Act of Disclosure

“It’s unfair is what it is!”

Optronix kept his optics trained on D-16 as he paced the length of the empty classroom they had both snuck into. The other mech was agitated that stellar cycle. He had known it from how the other had practically dragged him so he could rant.

“How could these mechs with these brilliant processors have such beliefs? Functionism renders bots incapable of achieving much more and pushes us all into roles without considering the possibility that we may not even want these roles.” D-16 flailed his arms around, his composure gone. It was a stark contrast to how elegant he could be during his speeches. Optronix nodded sympathetically, hoping that the other mech wouldn’t notice he was only half-paying attention. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s because of their processors, which they were forged with, that they have those beliefs.” Optronix pointed out, though not unkindly. “You have to admit, Dee, that some bots were perfectly made for their roles.”

“You sound like a Functionist.” D-16 scoffed, collapsing on the chair beside him.

Optronix bit his glossa, a momentary flash of terror tearing through his spark. He knew how D-16 could be against Functionists and he didn’t want to lose the other mech because he didn’t agree with him. “I mean, look at me, Dee. I was forged to be a librarian and I am perfectly happy with that.”

“Are you?”

The question lingered between them. He watched as D-16’s optics widened in horror as he quickly raised his servos, as if surrendering.

“I’m sorry. You’re right, just because some of us are unhappy with our forged roles doesn’t mean those who do want their forged roles are crazy to want them.” The other mech let out a vent, casting his optics down in shame. “I just want everyone to be given the choice to be who they want.”

“Not everyone can be who they want. That’s impossible.” A shadow of discomfort crosses D-16’s face and this time it’s Optronix’s turn to be defensive. He reached out, clasping the other mech’s servo in his. “I mean, maybe instead of a choice, bots should prove themselves worthy of being more than their forged roles. Not everyone can really escape their forged roles like you. You did because you’re worth more, but others—”

“Drop it, Optronix.” D-16 moved away. “I… didn’t know you thought this way.”

“Dee—”

He didn’t try reaching out as the other mech fled the room, a part of him ashamed that he’d let himself slip up knowing full well how passionate the other was when it came to that particular topic.

Mostly though… he couldn’t help but reflect on what he had said.

He did think mechs should be allowed past their forged roles if they were truly worth more, and Dee was worth more than a miner.

Optronix though…

He’d always aspired to be a librarian…

But was he worth more than that?

…

Was he happy to just be that?

---

Act of Profference

They hadn’t spoken in a long time, and by the time they did, D-16 had changed designations.

“You… compiled my writings?”

Megatron looked down at the presented datapad, impressed by the extensive list of everything he had ever written in his time at the university. Optronix had even found some of his old poems that dated back to his time in Kaon.

“I thought it would make up for… what I said.” Optronix’s optics were lowered as he gestured awkwardly to the datapad, he didn’t look up even as Megatron stepped closer. “There hasn’t been a stellar cycle that’s passed where I didn’t regret what I said. You have to understand that for a mech like me, I’ve never thought beyond what I was forged for. I have a good life ahead of me. Then, I thought about you and I understood.”

He had to admit to himself that he had missed Optronix’s presence. Soundwave may be his Amica Endura, but Megatron had always liked Optronix, that’s why it broke his spark when he’d heard such cruel words come out of the other mech’s intake. He had thought he’d found a sympathetic spark in Optronix only for the other to prove him wrong.

Maybe… maybe all they had needed was some time apart.

Optronix was right, it wasn’t his fault that he believed a bit in Functionism. If your life in the system was perfect, why would you ever question it?

“You didn’t have to.” He looked down at the datapad, his spark thrumming inside his chassis. He would have to look through it all once he was alone - but the gift was enough to bring a smile to his face.

Optronix had looked up as he had spoken, a look of disbelief and shock appearing on his face before he realized that Megatron was smiling.

“Thank you, and I’m sorry too.”

Really, they had both been too petty for their own good.

He couldn’t believe they had spent an entire cycle avoiding one another all because of one argument. Soundwave had berated him about it considering that they argued sometimes and they were still both Amica Enduras.

Why should one argument ruin what he had with Optronix?

“Could we go back to how we used to be? Before… the argument.” Optronix looked at him with hopeful red optics. Megatron didn’t realize how much he’d missed the other’s soft gaze.

The shade of it reminded him of the sunrise. When he had been a miner, he’d always cherished catching a glimpse of the sunrise, because he knew he had lived through another day of suffering - and so long as the sun rose, there was still hope of a better tomorrow.

“Yes.” He made the first move, pulling the other mech into a warm embrace.

Optronix’s frame stiffened in surprise before quickly melting into it, holding him just as tightly.

“Thanks, Dee.”

Oh, right.

“Oh, I changed my designation. It’s Megatron now.”

“Huh? Oh, well it suits you.”

---

Act of D e  v    o—

“GET AWAY FROM ME!”

His voice echoed through the large medical quarter, perhaps startling some of the medics outside, but Megatron was too enraged to care.

Optronix’s servo quickly retracted, the other mech flinching under the fire of his anger.

“I can’t believe you!” He could feel the strain in his new voice box, as if it was designed to keep him much quieter. “Optronix, I trusted you! Why… Why would you do this?!”

It was no secret that Optronix was an upper middle-class mech due to being forged as a librarian, and despite that, librarians usually couldn’t afford such extravagant medical procedures.

It was only now that Megatron was so unhelpfully told that Optronix’s older brother, Ultra Magnus, worked for the senate.

This would hardly make a dent in his brother’s paycheck.

He wanted to tear himself out of the new frame, separate his spark even if it meant going offline. Megatron could barely even look at himself in the mirror now.

While he understood that a frame did not make a mech, it bothered him to be so altered - so changed against his will.

He did not recognize this frame.

He did not recognize the blue wings in his back.

“You were… so miserable as you were—”

“I never said I hated how I was forged! I only hated that we were forced into forged roles!” He snapped back, wishing to make his voice louder but unable to. “Optronix… why did you do this?”

“I did it to save you!” The other mech lurched forward, servos gripping at his shoulder pads as if by the strength of his hold he could get Megatron to understand. “Do you even understand what it was like for me? To see you nearly offlined?! You were so excited for that meeting with the senate that it nearly broke my spark to find out that you were nearly assassinated and that it was all a trick! I had to find out through Ultra Magnus what had happened and when I saw your frame, you were nearly in pieces!”

“That doesn’t explain why you had to change my whole being—”

“Because now you can be free! Now no one has to look down at you for being a forged miner!” He could hear the desperation in the other mech’s voice, but all Megatron felt was disgust at the realization that Optronix had never changed at all. “What happened to you shook the foundations of Functionism, now every bot is questioning the system. Many will come for you… or at least they would have if you stayed in your old forged frame. In this frame, you have so many more options - you can pursue more this way. I did this for you, to protect you—”

“I’ve never needed anyone to protect me, Optronix.” Megatron pushed him away. “I should have never trusted you.”

He turned to leave.

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere far from you, and far from Iacon.”

---

“Optronix.”

Megatron reset his optics, unable to connect the arrogant senator to his old university friend.

They had the same paint color, and the same optics but…

Megatron had always assumed that Optronix had become a librarian, like he’d always wanted to be.

“I didn’t lie all those cycles ago when I said I thought about what you told me. I never thought beyond what I was forged for, and if I was truly happy being a librarian. I realized then that you were right, we should not be forced into roles we do not want.” The senator had finished his cube of engex, placing it on the table. His red optics narrowed as he moved closer to Megatron. “Still, I do believe that if you want to be more than what you’re forged for, then you’d have to prove yourself worthy. You were right. I was meant to be more than a librarian, and I’ve proven myself worthy of being senator. Given more time, I’ll prove myself worthy of being much more than a senator too.”

Tampering down the rage that he felt, Megatron let out a loud vent, shaking his helm in disbelief. “You had me mechnapped so you could… make a point? Show me how much of a hypocrite you are? Well, congratulations, senator, I’m very proud of you and that you got past your Functionist beliefs. Is that what you want to hear, Optronix?”

“Please, Megatron, I prefer to be called Orion Pax…” The other mech tilted his helm. “Though that might change soon… We’ll see if everything goes according to plan.”

He didn’t even have time to ask what the other mech meant by that before the senator stood, closing the space between them. Megatron pressed closer to the chair, unable to escape the servo that clamped down on his wing as Orion Pax leaned down so close that he could feel the other’s warmth against his frame.

“No, I didn’t bring you here for that.” A fondness had made its way to the senator’s voice, as those sunrise-colored optics stared down at him. “I plan to rule Cybertron. Since my plans were beginning to advance, I needed to ensure the safety of my future conjunx. I had let you stay in Polyhex for long enough. It was time I brought you back to your rightful place, here by my side.”

“Future conju—” Instead of anger, Megatron could only feel a rising sense of dread. “Have you lost your processor?!”

“Far from it!” The other mech smiled. “I realized that in our time at the academy, we were already engaging in the Conjunx Ritus. We both didn’t realize it at the time but how many times have we held one another’s servos? Ranted to one another? Gave each other gifts? All that’s needed to complete it is the last act, and I’ve already shown how devoted I am to you…”

As if trying to force him to remember what he’d done to him, the senator began to run a digit at the edge of his wing panels.

Megatron could barely keep the anger out of his voice, “You did this to me against my will!”

“I showed you how devoted I am to you by ensuring that you didn’t die!” The other mech snarled.

This time, there was no sunrise to be found in the other’s optics.

All he saw this time was the shade of the sunset.

He never could look at the sunset after he’d nearly been assassinated.

It had been the last view he’d had before he woke up in a frame that wasn’t his own.

“It’s unfinished. The ritual.” The other mech continued, his voice slightly hollow. “You don’t love me now, but you will, and I will accept that as your devotion to me.”

“I will never—”

The other mech leaned down, his sunset-colored optics bearing down on him with a love that promised eternity.

“You’re already nearly mine, and I am a very patient mech. You’ll see.”

The other moved closer, his vents warm against his dermas.

“You’ll be hopelessly devoted to me, as I am to you.”

Gently, Orion Pax kissed him, trapping him deeper within that sunset.

=============================================================

Story Notes:

So yep, Megatron is gonna go through it. Anyway, just some notes from me.

I adore both FunPub and IDW Shattered Glass, so I wanted to make a fanfic using both elements. Here's some that I mixed together + other explanations.

(1) In FunPub, Megatron is a mathematics professor who predicted the Cybertronian Civil War through math and so he formed the Decepticons as a contingency plan. In the IDW reboot, he was a miner turned civil rights activist. So there's a huge difference between both Megatrons. Like I don't think FunPub!Megatron has his lower caste background like in IDW, so I combined it here by making him a miner turned civil rights activist turned mathematics professor. Since I utilized Functionism in the fanfic, I had to find a way to turn Megatron's miner frame into the more popularly known winged-frame that Shattered Glass Megatron is known for. So, in this case, it's because of his civil activism that nearly got him killed and essentially he was put into the winged-frame so he could survive.

(2) In FunPub, Optronix is a librarian who becomes the villain because he wants history to remember him. In the IDW reboot, Orion Pax is a senator who wants control over Cybertron. Admittedly, both versions are evil for the sake of being evil as neither of them genuinely have a good motivation for the stuff they do. I combined these two elements in this fanfic by having OP start out as Optronix who was okay with the system and being a librarian before eventually realizing that he could be so much more, eventually thinking he deserves to be more. So he climbs up the ranks to become Orion Pax, the senator. Eventually, he plans to rule all over Cybertron. Since canon SG!OP is just straight up evil, here he really is a bad person - it's just that he cares for Megatron, to some extent.

(3) So for their first meeting, I changed it because I wanted them to meet earlier on and I wanted an excuse for a brief little Academy AU lmao. In FunPub, I don't think think OPMeg even knew each other before the war while in the IDW reboot they used to be friends before the war. So here, they are friends that drifted apart because of different ideologies and because OP did... all that. I also utilized Functionism more as a reason why these two are enemies because Megatron wants to get rid of this system while OP is somewhat okay with the system. I do have to apologize if sometimes it became serious in the fic, just the concept of Functionism is so interesting to me, especially as someone who was a polsci major so I can't help but think of how characters would act in a universe like this.

“Sleeping on the job, Optronix? One would think you didn’t care about the lead archivist position.”

The voice nearly sent him into a flying rage, but with his cooling fans working on overdrive, Optimus Prime kept himself from retorting or lunging immediately towards the other mech.

Slowly, his optics went online, and instead of the medical berth, he found himself leaning against a wooden table scattered with datapads. He looked up, expecting to see that hideous faceplate sneering down at him. Instead, a normal-looking mech watched him. While the smirk was there, Optimus could see the hint of worry in the mech’s red optics.

It would have made him laugh if he wasn’t so stunned.

Ultra Magnus?

Concerned for him?

Maybe he truly had gone mad.

“What? Embarrassed you’ve been caught? While I ought to snitch on you to your boss, I don’t care enough to go find the old rusty mech in the archives. Primus knows I’d get lectured alongside you if I dare disturb his oh so important filing.”  Ultra Magnus laughed, carefree as if he wasn’t just trying to kill Optimus a few kliks ago. 

When Optimus didn’t reapond, The taller mech leaned across the table, optics narrowed. “Seriously, what’s wrong with you? You need a medic or something? Not even a sarcastic remark, Optronix?”

“Where the frag am I?”

Optimus would never use such vulgar language - though they were unfortunately stuck inside his vocabulary like a virus. An irritating by-product of his friendship with Megatron.

A frown settled on Ultra Magnus’ faceplate. “I’m taking you to a medic. You must have caught quite the virus if you’re acting like this. Be grateful that you have such a caring older brother. I don’t want to cancel my date with Treadshot but if you need me—“

“Treadshot?” Optimus could vaguely recall the designation. “What are you talking about?”

“Treadshot. My partner. My conjunx.” Ultra Magnus snapped his digits in front of Optimus, as though trying to see if his processor was broken or not. “Optronix—“

Strangely enough, it was the idea of Ultra Magnus ever having a conjunx that made Optronix realize this wasn’t his world. 

The Ultra Magnus he knew was an ugly mech who had hidden his faceplate behind a hologram because no other mech could possibly be attracted to such an abomination.

To think this Ultra Magnus had a conjunx… Well, that was enough to convince Optimus that he had died and must have ended up in an entirely different universe.

Unless Primus had provided him with the worst afterlife imaginable, it was the only conclusion Optimus could reach.

It had been cycles since he’d have to play the role of an affable mech, but Optimus forced a smile on his faceplate, acting the part of an annoying younger brother. “Aw, you worried for Magnus?”

There was a long silence, then Ultra Magnus was forcibly pulling him away from behind his desk.

“I’m taking you to a medic.”

Huh… he picked the wrong personality then.

—

“His processor is relatively stable. No viruses in his system and there’s no glitch in his programming.”

Optimus sat at the medical berth, digits thrumming against the metal impatiently as Ratchet stated the obvious. He turned his optics to Ultra Magnus who was leaning on the wall, an indifferent look on his faceplates though the tenseness in his frame betrayed his worry. Once he was alone, Optimus needed a good laugh. 

Ultra Magnus… caring for him…

What a joke.

“Then the change in personality?” Ultra Magnus drawled out, sounding as if he wanted to be anywhere but here. 

Optimus caught Ratchet’s optics, the medic flashing him a grin as though they were sharing a secret.

It wasn’t the first look the medic had given him. In his spark, he was delighted to know that in this universe, Ratchet seemed to be much more amicable towards him. It seemed that his counterpart was well-acquainted with Ratchet if they were exchanging snide looks. Though there was also the flicker of rage. In his world, the medic had left with that traitor Goldbug. While Optimus could simply discard the other mech before he could betray him again, it would be best to stay in the mech’s good graces. Ratchet had been a brilliant asset regardless of his treachery. Optimus would simply have to keep the medic from betraying him.

“Have you considered that your brother is simply… happy?” Ratchet had turned to Ultra Magnus, an amused glint in his optics as he crossed his servos in front of his chassis. “If the problem is a change in personality, then I suggest you leave my clinic. I’m a medic, not a psychologist.”

“Run the tests again.” The words were gritted out. Optimus took note of it. This Ultra Magnus seemed to really care about his younger brother. While he was loath to work with the mech again, Optimus knew an opportunity when he saw one. Perhaps in this universe, once he began his ascent to power again, he could manipulate the other mech’s care for him to keep him in line.

After another grueling joor of being poked and prodded, Ratchet confirmed the same diagnosis: Optronix was medically-sound.

There was a clear distress in Ultra Magnus’ optics.

“Apologies for my brother, Ratchet. I don’t want to waste any more of your time.” He tried to keep his tone steady, refusing to stick to a particular personality until he knew what Optronix had been like.

The medic let out a laugh, opening his intake but Ultra Magnus cut him off.

“Are you two… friends?”

The question caught Optimus off-guard.

What was wrong with his other version that prompted that question?

“Of course I have friends.” He scoffed, and that removed all the tension in Ultra Magnus’ frame. At least now he knew that talking back was normal for his other version.

But another thought came into his processor.

If Ultra Magnus thought Optronix didn’t have friends…

Then did he not know Megatron in this universe?

—

After his visit to the clinic, and with a bit of convincing, Ultra Magnus had escorted him home before leaving to meet with Treadshot. Optimus had quickly searched the entire apartment, intending to find any information that would better assist him in impersonating Optronix. He had found quite a bit of information.

For one, his other version was pathetically depressing.

The apartment had no distinguishable personality, nothing to indicate that his other version cared for anything aside from the mess of books on the ground.

Optimus had his own side interests, like listening to Megatron’s passionate speeches because the other mech really had been amusing, so he felt a bit of disappointment at his other self for having… nothing.

Optronix was a librarian. Optimus had been a senator. 

What an inferior mech…

Optimus was about to give up on his fruitless search when he took note of a datapad on a table near the berth.

It gave him everything he needed to know about Optronix.

Optimus had to applaud his other version, his plans were quite meticulous and as depressed as his other version may have been, it seemed the other mech had hated his lack of power.

Enough that he was willing to do anything to seize any for himself.

They were similar in that way.

There was no mention of Metroplex in the plans, but he wasn’t surprised that Starscream’s designation was brought up. Starscream in the other world had been a scientist - not the most brilliant but he would have been a good asset if he had chosen to submit to his rule. In this world, it seemed as though Starscream was a well-known genius.

Optronix had written it all down for Optimus to scour through. An extensive plan to recruit particular mechs, and if he was able to recruit Starscream, he would gain access to Crystal City’s advanced technology. With that technology, Optronix planned to sweep through Cybertron’s cities until he was the sole ruler of the entire planet.

An interesting plan, well-designed and one Optimus would certainly utilize to his advantage. It gave him a better view of what this universe was like and what he could use in his ascent to power.

A shame that this universe’s Starscream didn’t seem to have a Jetfire. Optimus had taken note of how close those two mechs had been in his universe. He could have used both of them against the other to keep them in line.

But there was one other designation that Optimus had searched for. He must have read the datapad three times before he finally came to the same conclusion he had reached at the clinic.

Optronix did not know Megatron.

He didn’t know why, but he felt personally insulted by that.

Where in the designation of Primus was Megatron in this universe?

He had killed his own in the end, but Optimus would not accept the mech’s absence in this new universe.

Megatron would not escape his grasp for the second time.

—

A mathematician.

This universe’s Megatron was a mathematician.

It was such a bizarre fact that Optimus couldn’t even laugh.

He thought of his own Megatron, the miner turned civil rights activist that opposed him the entirety of their friendship. No matter what angled Optimus had tried, Megatron had never trusted him fully. He had lectured Optimus as though they were friends, but Megatron never could see him that way. Optimus chalked it up to the other mech’s distrust of authority.

Optimus was well aware that the other mech had never shared the same affection he had felt.

‘That’s where you are wrong, Orion. You may have offered me a place at your side… but I never could have been on your side.’

He had to admit, killing Megatron was the only regret he ever had after he had returned home to Cybertron.

While he hated the traitors Goldbug, Prowl, and Ultra Magnus, no other mech had compared to Megatron.

He had lost the only mech that he thought he deserved to have.

Now they were both dead in their universe.

Was Megatron given the same second chance that he had?

Optimus stared down at the datapad in his servos, leaning his helm back against the berth as he scoured some of the available pictures of this universe’s Megatron.

He had searched the other mech’s designation in the system, hoping that somehow in this universe Megatron had made a reputation for himself that he would be famous enough to pop up among the search results.

He had been instantly met with mathematical papers and a profile from the Polyhex Institute. Not only was Megatron a mathematician, he was also a professor.

Optimus had a difficult time recognizing the mech in the picture.

While this universe’s Megatron looked similar to his own, it was startling to see the easy smile on the other mech’s faceplate. It didn’t appear forced, rather it appeared as though it was a gesture that came to this universe’s Megatron easily.

He had a difficult time equating this Megatron from the Megatron he knew. Even when their friendship was somewhat amicable, his Megatron usually held an irritated scowl on his faceplate. He had been rough around the edges, his experience as a miner having shaped him into a jaded mech that sometimes Optimus had wondered what kept the hope in the other mech’s spark from dimming. It was that juxtaposition that made him so entertaining.

If only his Megatron had stayed by his side…

His optics focused on the picture again.

This universe’s Megatron had the same blue optics, but there was no weariness in their gaze. Rather, there was an openness in that faceplate, a mech who looked like he trusted and forgave too easily.

While Optimus missed the Megatron of his universe (for he had been the first love he had known), he would be lying if he said he wasn’t endeared by this universe’s Megatron.

This version was untouched by life’s hardships.

A clean slate.

—

Blue optics glowed in the darkness as the sun dipped past the horizon, bathing Professor Megatron’s office in shadows.

He could feel the shake in his servos, the horror across his faceplate as he read through the equations again and again.

He couldn’t remember how long he had stood there, but from the stiffness in his frame, it must have been joors.

Even as the formula disappeared before him, engulfed by the black of the coming lunar cycle, he could almost see the numbers flashing across in his processor. 

Recharge would not come easily.

Megatron knew it would not come easily for a very long time.

When he had begun his calculations a few astroweeks ago, it had been a mere curiosity that he had wanted to indulge. The school year in the Institute of Polyhex had officially ended and most of the students had returned home to their cities. As Megatron was one of the few professors who resided on campus, he had a lot of free time on his servos.

He had planned to publish his views on the theory of psychohistory, a controversial branch of science that most of his colleagues had ridiculed in the past. Megatron hadn’t had the time to look into it himself, but he had decided he would after cycles of putting the task to the side.

Now… he was unsure if that had been a good idea.

If the theory was true, then the entire world was about to be put into upheaval.

Civil war…

Wars were a phenomenon of the ancient past, when Cybertronian cities were still divided and scrounging for land.

After many treaties and alliances, Cybertron had come into a peaceful golden era.

How many generations has it been since the last war?

Megatron was no historian, but he was quite certain that there was no mech currently alive that had actually witnessed a war.

There remained warriors, but they’ve never truly seen a battlefield.

Now all of Cybertron was about to plunge into a new era of bloodshed.

Megatron let out a shaky vent, unable to believe the answer his calculations had given.

He’d have to consult his colleagues. Even if psychohistory was controversial, the results needed to be shared.

Megatron could not close his optics to a possible civil war.

He would never forgive himself if it came true and he had done nothing to stop it.

Suddenly, a notification from the datapad on his desk broke him from his thoughts.

He turned, feeling the ache in his frame as he reached his desk and grabbed the datapad with his servos.

A message.

He frowned, unable to recognize the ID that had sent it:

‘Dear Professor,

I am a librarian from the City of Iacon. I have recently come across a few of your papers and I’m interested to learn more from you. Forgive me for being so bold, but if you have the time, I would love to keep up this correspondence with you.’

Sincerely,