《Primus' Rising Prophet》 Chapter 1 - KNEEL = = = New Spark POV . . . It all happened so fast after I said yes to Primus. In an instant, I was thrust into the middle of a transformation: ¡°-REBORN ANEW. OPTIMUS PRIME¡± roared a chorus of voices, echoing like the pulse of a universe. My feet¡ªno, pedes¡ªtouched the ground with a soft, weightless grace, like a balloon deflating gently after floating high. The Matrix of Leadership rested in my hands¡ªno, servos¡ªits radiant light dimming to a soft, steady glow. I am a Transformer now. A Transformer. Not human. I am Orion Pax. When the light finally dimmed, no longer blinding me, I saw them¡ªother Transformers standing in the room. For a moment, I couldn¡¯t place who they were or where I was. But then, Orion Pax¡¯s memories surged through me like a torrential waterfall, seamlessly integrating into my consciousness. In an instant, I remembered everything. I had been summoned here to provide evidence of the crimes committed by Sentinel Prime, such as the shadow-play experiments. Zeta Prime, Sentinel¡¯s successor, was coercing me to swear the truth upon the Matrix before the Senate Council¡ªa Matrix he had poisoned in secret. The intent had been for Orion Pax to die under its touch, allowing Zeta to claim that Primus had punished the data clerk for falsehoods. Yes. The Orion Pax of this world had died. That is why Primus placed my soul into Orion Pax¡¯s spark the moment it flickered out. And now, I was and am Optimus Prime. The look on Zeta Prime¡¯s face was nothing short of glorious. He was clearly short-circuiting, and so was everyone else in the room. Even the ever-stoic Ultra Magnus stood frozen, his jaw slack and optics wide, utterly unprepared for Alpha Trion¡¯s prot¨¦g¨¦ to be chosen by the Matrix. ¡°F-¡­False¡­ False Prime!¡± Zeta shrieked, his voice slicing through the stunned silence and jolting everyone from their shock. ¡°Guards! Guards! Arrest Orion Pax!¡± The guards hesitated, their uncertainty palpable, but eventually, two of them broke free from their daze and began moving toward me. I wasn¡¯t the least bit worried. I raised my hand just above my head, then swept it downward, clenching my fist. ¡°Kneel.¡± In an instant, every mech standing in the room was forced to their knees under an immense, invisible pressure, as though gravity itself had turned against them. Cries and shouts filled the chamber as they struggled to rise, only to fail. The mechs who had remained seated stared in stunned silence, untouched by the force. But the moment any of them attempted to stand, the crushing weight dragged them down as well. I tilted my chin up, narrowing my gaze at Zeta Prime. From this position, he seemed far smaller, like an ant. ¡°Your head was too high,¡± I quipped. His optics burned with rage, but behind the fiery glow, they flickered with something else¡ªfear. His frame trembled, caught between the crushing invisible force and the weight of his own terror. I could see it, clear as day. Locking my gaze onto his red-amber optics, I saw it all¡ªhis sins, flashing like a torrent of corrupted data across my vision. Each one laid bare, undeniable, and damning. ¡°False Prime, indeed,¡± I said, clicking my glossa in disdain at Zeta, my distaste evident. ¡°I wonder if Primus would even consider taking your spark after all the crimes you¡¯ve committed against Cybertronians, Zeta.¡± He opened his mouth to respond, but with a simple flick of my fingers, I seized control of his vocalizers, silencing him completely. ¡°Uh-uh, I didn¡¯t give you permission to speak,¡± I added, my voice cold and cutting. ¡°O¡­Orion¡­¡± Ultra Magnus called out, his voice strained as he knelt under the immeasurable force. Though he had stopped fighting it, he remained in a humbled position, his head bowed low. I felt a pang of guilt for doing this to him, but I couldn¡¯t ignore the truth. Some of the crimes committed by Zeta and Sentinel were his burden as well¡ªborn of his inaction and unwavering loyalty to the head of Command. Yet, Ultra Magnus wasn¡¯t entirely beyond redemption. If guided well, his story could take a better path, whatever that may be. Wherever this alternate universe might lead us, I wanted to believe that possibility remained. Still, I needed to be firm with him. I couldn¡¯t let him believe I was the same weak, old data clerk who had once trailed after Alpha Trion like a devoted shadow. After all, he wasn¡¯t around anymore. ¡°The name is Optimus Prime, Ultra Magnus,¡± I said, my voice steady, weighty, ¡°as declared by the Matrix and Primus himself. ¡­Or are you questioning me? The new Prime?¡± A flicker of doubt crossed my mind. Why do I sound like the villain here? I wondered, my own words echoing back at me. The weight of my actions pressed against me, but there was no turning back now. I know the real Optimus Prime would never do this, but damn it, sometimes you gotta play politics and some game of thrones on the side. Ultra Magnus shifted his gaze toward Zeta, who was clawing uselessly at his vocalizers, desperate to speak. For a moment, Magnus seemed to consider his options. Then, with a heavy sigh, he shook his head, his resolve crumbling. Slowly, he lifted his optics to meet mine, defeated.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°No, Optimus Prime,¡± he said, his voice steady but subdued, finally acknowledging my title. ¡°I¡­ I understand my place.¡± ¡°Is there anyone else here to voice against my position? Speak now,¡± I demanded, my voice cutting through the silence. A chorus of immediate replies filled the room, a resounding wave of "no." With a simple wave of my hand, I released them from the crushing gravity, allowing them to rise. They stood cautiously, stretching and visibly relieved that the ordeal was over. Most kept their distance, their wary gazes flickering toward me with a mix of unease and reluctant respect. When Zeta attempted to stand, I flicked my wrist, and he was immediately forced back to the ground. He glared up at me, surprise flickering across his features. ¡°No. Not you,¡± I said coldly, my optics locked on him. He simmered in quiet rage, his defiance muted but unmistakable. Good. ¡°Today, I declare to all of Cybertron that both the deceased Sentinel Prime and Zeta Prime are¡ªand always were¡ªfalse Primes!¡± I announced, my voice ringing with authority. Gasps rippled through the room, but I paid them no mind, my optics locking onto certain members of the Senate Council. ¡°And those complicit in the false naming of a Prime will face prosecution,¡± I continued, my tone unwavering. ¡°And I know who among you is responsible.¡± I spotted a few of them trembling in their frames, their guilt practically radiating off them as their crimes flashed vividly before my optics. To be honest, none of this would have been possible if I wasn¡¯t now fully, 100% attuned to the Matrix¡ªa gift bestowed upon me by Primus. The Matrix wasn¡¯t just a vessel for the memories and knowledge of the true Primes who came before me, though that alone was invaluable. It carried other abilities, hidden strengths I was only beginning to uncover. Perks I would gladly use to prove Primus¡¯ existence whenever necessary. And perhaps, just perhaps¡­ Megatron might end up liking me. And Yes. I am a MOP fan. *** ¡°¡­You¡¯re different now¡­¡± Ultra Magnus observed, his voice quiet yet weighted with realization. ¡°That¡¯s what happens when an ancient artifact decides to remake you and grants you all the powers of a Prime,¡± I replied, matter-of-fact but not without a hint of irony. We were in the Hall of Records, surrounded by shelves upon shelves of stored data. Ultra Magnus and I, along with several archivists, were combing through the restricted section, compiling folders detailing Zeta¡¯s long list of illegal activities. At first, the archivists were jittery around me, unsure of how to act. But as the evidence of Zeta¡¯s corruption piled up, their apprehension gave way to righteous fury. Empowered by the sheer injustice of it all, they worked with renewed determination, gathering more and more damning records. Even Ultra Magnus was beginning to feel the weight of his inaction. I could hear him muttering curses under his breath as his grip tightened on a datapad, the screen creaking under the pressure. ¡°¡­Did you know all this, Or¡ªI mean, Optimus Prime?¡± ¡°You can just call me, Optimus, Magnus,¡± I said as those two words were a mouthful in a casual and/or work setting. ¡°And no, I didn¡¯t. The Matrix showed me Zeta¡¯s guilt when I glanced over him.¡± ¡°That¡¯s¡ª¡± ¡°You¡¯re also guilty for ignoring the signs and for listening to their orders, blindly following them.¡± I pointed out and I could see him flinch in my peripheral vision. ¡°If you had followed up your suspicions, you could have saved hundreds of Cybertronian lives sooner rather than later.¡± My optics drew away from the datapad as I glanced at him whose fists were shaking. His head lowered in shame. I sighed, the weight of my words settling heavily between us. Maybe I shouldn¡¯t have been so harsh, but Magnus needed to hear it. No one else¡ªnot Zeta, not Sentinel¡ªcould have chastised him like this; his high position had insulated him from accountability for far too long. Yet, his inaction had allowed the false Primes to corrupt everything they touched. ¡°Don¡¯t fret, Magnus. I need you in these trying times,¡± I said, softening my tone to assure him that imprisonment wasn¡¯t my intention. Ultra Magnus shook his head, his voice heavy with remorse. ¡°I should be put to trial.¡± ¡°No,¡± I said firmly, ¡°you should be scolded for being a fool¡ªwhich is what I¡¯m doing now.¡± I met his gaze, unyielding but fair. ¡°I can¡¯t fault you for being solely ignorant. They fooled all of Cybertron. All we can do now is clean up the mess they left behind.¡± Magnus sighed heavily, falling silent as he glared at the datapad in his hands. After a long moment, he lowered it, his expression grim. ¡°What about Megatron?¡± he asked. Megatron. Right now, our world was locked in a brutal civil war against Megatron of Tarn, once a freedom fighter, now the self-proclaimed Leader of the Decepticons after killing Megazarak. Over a year ago, Megatron had slain Sentinel Prime, and since then, his control had expanded to three major cities: Kaon, Tarn, and Vos. Two of those cities housed critical energon mining operations. With those distributors under Decepticon control, Iacon had been forced to implement strict energon reserve protocols. Resources were dwindling. The comfort and luxury that the citizens of Iacon usually indulged in had diminished to more conservative restraints. Megatron. I didn¡¯t want to fight him. ¡°Ultra Magnus,¡± I said, addressing him by his full designation, my tone firm. ¡°I know we have troops stationed outside the cities under Megatron¡¯s control. Who is commanding the fleet?¡± Magnus straightened in his seat at the question, his professionalism overriding his earlier guilt. ¡°That would be Commander Ironhide, my Prime,¡± he replied. I noted the respectful use of the title and couldn¡¯t help but feel a flicker of appreciation. Magnus was beginning to respect me more, but I knew the orders I was about to issue would test his loyalty¡ªand they wouldn¡¯t be easy for him to swallow. ¡°Have Ironhide retreat. Pull our forces back,¡± I ordered, my tone steady and resolute. ¡°Then, have him¡ªor someone more tactful¡ªapproach Megatron and his Decepticons with a truce. Barter for energon supplies, and in exchange, we¡¯ll pay them with the appropriate amount of alt-mode kits.¡± The moment the words left my mouth, Magnus shot to his pedes, his chair scraping harshly against the floor. ¡°Optimus! You cannot be serious!¡± he shouted, his voice reverberating through the Hall of Records. A few nearby archivists flinched, ducking their heads in unease. ¡°Offering the enemy alt-mode kits? That would only make them more powerful! ¡°They are not the enemy, Magnus,¡± I said carefully, my voice firm but measured. Setting the datapad down on the desk, I held his gaze. ¡°They are the product of a nation long corrupted. They were wronged, Magnus. They couldn¡¯t stand by anymore.¡± Magnus¡¯ optics narrowed, his stance unyielding. ¡°Megatron is a terrorist. He has committed war crimes¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªWar crimes against the previous Primes¡¯ rule,¡± I interjected, cutting him off. ¡°If Sentinel hadn¡¯t attempted to subjugate Tarn, seeking to silence Megatron by murdering him¡ªbecause his words and ideals were spreading across Cybertron¡ªthen maybe Sentinel would still be alive today. And maybe it would have been me who brought down Primus¡¯ wrath upon him.¡± Magnus opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off, leaning forward on the table, my optics locked on his. ¡°Listen, Magnus. You want to make up for everything that¡¯s gone wrong these past mega cycles? Then you need to do it my way.¡± My voice was firm but carried a note of understanding. ¡°I get that following the Primes has led you to regrets, but I can¡¯t have that hesitation here¡ªnot when I¡¯ve just barely started today. Watch me work before you decide not to follow my orders.¡± I straightened slightly, keeping my tone steady. ¡°I¡¯ll take your advice, Magnus. I know Megatron has the potential to become an enemy. But right now, he is not the enemy. To him¡ªand to the cities he¡¯s liberated¡ªwe are.¡± I let the words settle for a moment before continuing. ¡°I want this bloodshed and discord to end just as much as you do. And that means not dismissing Megatron as some random terrorist who only wants to plunge Cybertron into chaos. Doesn¡¯t his literature¡ªhis ideals¡ªspeak to something deeper than what he appears to be on the surface?¡± Magnus fell into silence, truly pondering my words. A few nano-clicks passed, the air heavy between us, before I gestured toward him. ¡°You may go for today, Magnus,¡± I said, my tone calm but firm. ¡°Ensure Ironhide receives my directive. I¡¯ll stay here for a while longer.¡± The tension in his shoulders eased slightly, and he bowed his head to me. ¡°My Prime.¡± The words carried hesitation, but I could tell he intended to follow my orders, albeit reluctantly. Trust was surely an expensive commodity these days. = = = Chapter 2 - Quintus Prime Never Blamed You = = = Megatron¡¯s POV . . . ¡°Megatron! Iacon''s forces are pulling out!¡± Starscream announced, his tone brimming with enthusiasm. ¡°You¡¯ve done it! They are cowering before your magnificence!¡± Megatron¡¯s optics narrowed. The news was certainly welcome¡ªno more Iacon forces breathing down their necks¡ªbut it raised questions. What had changed? Why would Zeta Prime pull his fleet back so suddenly? The Decepticon command center was in a frenzy, dispatching scouts to confirm the retreat and ensure no traps were lying in wait. Could this be some clever ruse? Or perhaps a secret coup was unfolding within their ranks? Then, Soundwave entered, striding purposefully to Megatron before dropping to one knee. ¡°Lord Megatron. I bring news. Zeta Prime has been arrested by a new Prime,¡± he reported in his signature monotone. ¡°A new Prime?¡± Megatron¡¯s optics flickered, his voice sharp with suspicion. ¡°Explanation: it occurred during the Senate Council meeting hours ago. The Matrix has chosen a new bearer¡ªOptimus Prime,¡± Soundwave clarified with calculated precision. Optimus Prime. Silence fell in the room. This was exactly why ¡®Primes¡¯ were such a hassle¡ªnothing but power-mongering fools wrapped in self-righteousness. No doubt this new Prime would be just as corrupt as the last. Megatron¡¯s frustration simmered, compounded by the lack of any information on this so-called Optimus Prime. The Primacy as a whole was a farce. ¡°Under what charges?¡± Megatron asked, his tone laced with disdain as he sighed at the absurdity of the situation. A new leader in Iacon¡ªwhat would that mean for them? Would this one spiral into madness like the others, hurling their armies into futile battles? ¡°For tampering with the Matrix to manipulate the Primacy¡¯s results, as well as conducting illegal Cybertronian experimentation involving shadow-play,¡± Soundwave answered, his voice steady and unyielding. Megatron¡¯s optics snapped wide open at the revelation. He had long suspected the existence of secret agents¡ªpuppets molded through unspeakable methods, forced to carry out the Senate¡¯s shadowy agenda. Dead-end assassins, once living mechs, turned into hollow instruments of death through brutal experimentation and relentless torture. Rumors of their existence had always swirled, but the Senate had consistently denied them, hiding their atrocities to keep their tools operational. But this new Prime¡­ he had made the charge public. ¡°Lord Megatron! Iacon Command is hailing us for comms,¡± Jetfire announced, his tone sharp with urgency. Megatron rose from his throne, his imposing frame casting a long shadow across the room. Without a word, he moved to face the comms screen, arms crossing over his chest in a display of authority. ¡°Patch them through,¡± he ordered, his voice cold and unwavering. A moment later, the screen flickered to life, revealing a black-and-white mech with a piercing red visor. ¡°Megatron of Tarn. I am Lieutenant Prowl. Our Prime has a proposition for you,¡± the mech stated, his voice cool and measured. ¡°Oh?¡± Megatron¡¯s lips curled into a sharp smile as he fixed Prowl with an unrelenting glare. ¡°Is this coming from the new Prime? We¡¯ve heard the news. What does he want?¡± Prowl¡¯s expression darkened, his shoulders visibly stiffening under Megatron¡¯s scrutiny. ¡°¡­Optimus Prime wishes to barter for energon supplies,¡± he said at last, the words clipped and deliberate. Megatron raised a brow ridge, surprise flickering across his face. Of all the things he expected from this new Prime, a request to barter was not one of them. He had half-expected Optimus Prime to demand his surrender outright. ¡°Oh?¡± Megatron leaned forward slightly, his voice laced with intrigue. ¡°And what would he offer in return?¡± Prowl hesitated, his reluctance evident as his vents shuddered with a mechanical cough to clear his vocalizer. ¡°¡­In return for energon supplies, Optimus Prime is willing to barter with alt-mode kits.¡± The room erupted with shocked murmurs and excited chatter. Even Megatron struggled to maintain his composure, his optics narrowing as he processed the unexpected offer. Alt-mode kits¡ªrestricted technology hoarded by Iacon¡¯s military elite¡ªwere never handed out freely, especially not to lower-caste citizens or outsiders like the Decepticons. While the command staff buzzed with celebration, Megatron¡¯s wariness only deepened. The deal was too good to be true. He had learned long ago to distrust Iacon¡¯s generosity. ¡°I¡¯m no fool,¡± Megatron said, his voice cutting through the commotion like a blade. ¡°What¡¯s the catch? Hmm?¡± Prowl¡¯s visor dimmed slightly as he let out a frustrated grumble. ¡°We, of the Royal Forces, are equally baffled. But the Prime has spoken,¡± he said, his tone laced with irritation. ¡°These are the terms¡­¡± The enemy¡¯s initial offer was 100 alt-mode kits for six months¡¯ worth of energon supplies. The proposal ticked Megatron off¡ªsix months felt excessive for such a meager quantity of those highly coveted kits. He voiced his dissatisfaction sharply, prompting Prowl to unexpectedly open the floor to negotiation. That surprise gave Megatron an edge, one he immediately seized upon. By the end of the bartering, the terms were set: 300 alt-mode kits in exchange for three months¡¯ worth of energon, delivered to Iacon in manageable weekly shipments. A more favorable deal, though Megatron was still weighing its hidden costs. ¡°With this trade settled, we also ask for a temporary truce,¡± Prowl added, his tone firm but measured. Megatron¡¯s optics narrowed in response. A truce. It was a logical request, one Megatron found himself reluctantly needing as well. With three cities under his control, he was still struggling to stabilize them, let alone appoint competent managers to oversee their operations. His forces were also scraping for energon, and while the trade demanded sacrifice, the alt-mode kits would be a game changer. Military applications came first, of course, but their utility in work and infrastructure couldn¡¯t be ignored. Still, Megatron couldn¡¯t afford to let the enemy see his need for this so-called truce. A smirk stretched across his faceplates, a calculated display of confidence and superiority. ¡°I suppose I could grant a bit of mercy,¡± he drawled, his tone dripping with mock benevolence. ¡°But only until this trade is complete.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll relay the message to my Prime,¡± Prowl said curtly. Without another word, he cut off communications. A nano-click later, the Decepticon command center erupted in cheers and excited chatter. ¡°Can you believe it? They¡¯re really sending us alt-mode kits!¡± Thundercracker exclaimed, his tone a mix of disbelief and amusement. ¡°This new Prime must be out of his mind!¡± ¡°I wonder if we¡¯ll get at least one!¡± Skywarp chimed in, his optics gleaming with curiosity. Starscream turned on him with a sharp glare. ¡°You idiot! We already have alt-modes. Why would Lord Megatron waste any of them on you?¡± ¡°I-I¡¯m just saying!¡± Skywarp stammered, his voice defensive. ¡°Sometimes I wish I could be a ground vehicle!¡± The room buzzed with chatter, but Megatron raised a hand, gesturing for Jetfire to step closer. The mech obeyed without hesitation. ¡°What do you think of this, Jetfire?¡± Megatron asked, his voice calm but edged with curiosity. Jetfire folded his arms, his optics narrowing in thought. ¡°Honestly? I¡¯m not sure. These alt-mode kits could significantly bolster our military strength. But Iacon isn¡¯t really that desperate for energon. They¡¯ve got enough reserves to last at least two or three mega-cycles with their strict rationing protocols.¡± Megatron¡¯s optics flickered as he processed Jetfire¡¯s analysis. Then he turned to another trusted voice. ¡°Soundwave?¡± he prompted, confident that the telepath had been monitoring every nuance of the conversation. Soundwave stepped forward, coming to a halt beside Jetfire. ¡°Speculation: Jetfire¡¯s assessment is accurate. Iacon is not in immediate need of energon,¡± he intoned, his voice steady and precise. ¡°Maybe this new Prime, Optimus, is trying to get into your good graces?¡± Jetfire suggested, his tone speculative. ¡°It could be a tactic to lower your guard.¡± ¡°Affirmative,¡± Soundwave interjected without hesitation, his monotone voice carrying an air of certainty. ¡°Advice: tread with caution.¡± ¡°Hm.¡± Megatron leaned back in his throne, his optics dimming slightly as he mulled over their insights. Their opinions aligned with his own suspicions. This could very well be a clever trap¡ªa ploy to lull him into a false sense of security, only for this new Prime to strike at the perfect moment. ¡°¡­If it is,¡± he said, his voice low but resolute, ¡°then we¡¯ll be ready for it. Nothing is going to stop me from taking over Cybertron and dismantling its pathetic Senate Council and the Primacy.¡± Nothing. . . . = = = OP¡¯s POV . . . ¡°You cannot be serious about shipping off 300 alt-mode kits all at once, can you?¡± Ultra Magnus questioned, his tone laced with disbelief. ¡°It¡¯s a test,¡± I said, keeping my voice calm as I reviewed the datapad in my hands. The compiled crimes of Sentinel Prime, now deceased, and Zeta Prime, currently imprisoned, scrolled across the screen. Both were false Primes, their claims to the Matrix bolstered by fabricated witness statements¡ªa lie perpetuated by corrupt Senate members. Without looking up, I continued speaking to Magnus. ¡°Honestly, the deal is good. I expected Megatron to push for 500 alt-mode kits, but Prowl did an excellent job with negotiations. Please make sure to pass on my thanks to him.¡± Even as I spoke, I could feel Magnus¡¯s unease. His concern wasn¡¯t misplaced. ¡°Five hundred?¡± Magnus rasped, his voice nearly cracking as he reeled from the number I had been willing to consider. ¡°¡­What is this test for?¡± ¡°There are several, actually,¡± I replied, gesturing toward one of my recently hired secretaries¡ªan archivist named Codex. ¡°This one is to see if he can actually keep his word.¡± I turned back to Codex, handing him the datapad. ¡°Make at least five copies of this and store the original in the restricted section of the Hall of Records. Please and thank you.¡± ¡°Right away, My Prime!¡± Codex replied, clutching the datapad to his chest plates as though his very spark depended on it. Without hesitation, he spun on his heel and briskly walked away, nearly breaking into a jog. I rose from my desk, striding purposefully toward the exit with Magnus close on my heels. ¡°Where are you off to now?¡± Magnus called after me, his tone teetering between exasperation and urgency. ¡°We still have much to discuss¡ª¡± ¡°Then discuss while you walk,¡± I replied, glancing over my shoulder. ¡°I need to make a trip outside to the Praxian Research Center.¡± Magnus froze mid-step, his optics widening. ¡°You¡ªwait. No. Absolutely not. Any time you leave the Senate Building, we require preparation. Do you have any idea how big a security risk this is? You can¡¯t just go outside without a guard, Optimus!¡± I raised an optic ridge, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at my expression. ¡°I have you, don¡¯t I?¡± Magnus shook his head, his tone firm but tinged with frustration. ¡°It¡¯s not enough. Please, just give me one hour, My Prime. I¡¯ll have a guard assembled, and I¡¯ll even notify the Praxian Research Center to expect your arrival.¡±This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. I stopped and stared at Magnus for a moment. Seeing how frazzled he was, my spark gave out to him. ¡°Alright, Magnus. I¡¯ll wait, but not one hour longer.¡± Magnus sighed in relief, uttering a quiet thanks as he hurried off to make the preparations. Primus¡­ I wonder when was the last time this mech took a vacation? Half an hour later, Magnus had assembled a small escort to accompany me, including himself, as we boarded the train to the Praxian Research Center. The entire cable car had been reserved for me and my guard alone, though that didn¡¯t stop civilians in adjacent cars from taking snapshots with their optics. I could tell by the way their optics flickered, quickly dimming and brightening¡ªan unmistakable sign of image capture. It reminded me that I, too, could do the same, storing pictures directly into my neural network. Perhaps it was an echo of Orion Pax¡¯s archivist nature, but I found myself marveling at my own data storage capabilities. Even the largest volumes of information could be compressed to one-eighth of their original size, though it often felt unnecessary given the sheer scale of storage at my disposal. Orion¡¯s system was near limitless, able to hold the entirety of Iacon¡¯s Hall of Records and still utilize only a fraction of its capacity¡ªbarely one-sixth. It was staggering. I could seamlessly observe and stream through an unimaginable wealth of information with a single thought, my mind functioning as a living library. ¡°Why didn¡¯t we take the Tempest¡ª¡± ¡°Shh!¡± Two of the mechs assigned to guard me whispered loudly, earning a sharp glare from Magnus that silenced them immediately. I suppose this was partly my fault. We were on a train because I¡¯d insisted on it, claiming the people needed to see me¡ªthe new Prime. The real reason, however, was far more personal: I wanted to see the city for myself. Iacon was undeniably grand, its sprawling skyline and intricate architecture rivaling the human city of Dubai in my mind. The comparison lingered as I gazed out the window, captivated by the interplay of light reflecting off Cybertronian metals and towering structures. The Tempest, of course, was the official flight carrier traditionally used by Primes. But honestly, I¡¯d rather be aboard the Ark if it still existed. The thought crossed my mind briefly, a faint curiosity. Huh. I wonder where the Ark was. We arrived at our station soon enough, and as we stepped off the train, we were immediately surrounded by reporters. Their voices overlapped in a chaotic din, cameras and recorders thrust forward in a desperate bid for attention. Magnus, walking beside me, didn¡¯t look particularly thrilled. Still, he didn¡¯t complain; after all, this was nothing new. Both Sentinel and Zeta had often courted the media, and I knew Magnus was no stranger to dealing with them. One reporter, more persistent than the rest, managed to wriggle halfway through the barrier formed by my guards. He waved a rod-like device¡ªwhat I assumed was the Cybertronian equivalent of a microphone¡ªtoward me, his voice nearly frantic. ¡°Optimus Prime! Optimus Prime! Is it true that you are submitting to Megatron¡¯s tyrannical demands? We have sources claiming you¡¯ve ordered the Iacon Royal Forces to pull back¡ª¡± I stepped forward, gently taking the mic from his grasp. It had a bit of grime on it, so I wiped it clean with my thumb before tucking it back into the small pocket on his chest plate. The reporter blinked at me, startled by the gesture. ¡°Primus bless you,¡± I said warmly, giving him a light pat on the head before continuing on my way. Magnus fell into step beside me, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as we moved past the sea of media. ¡°That was¡­ tactful,¡± Magnus remarked, his tone carrying a hint of genuine admiration. ¡°Mm-hmm,¡± I replied simply, continuing forward. Our progress was steady, though we stopped briefly at intervals as I spread the word of Primus. Drawing from the archives within my mind library, I recited hymns and prayers penned by the Primacy Brotherhood of Old, their words steeped in reverence. Occasionally, I found myself channeling prayers from the Matrix itself, whispered by the voices of older Primes whose devotion to Primus had been absolute. I suppose I was crafting a particular image for the public¡ªa holy, priestly figure who sought unity, not war. This wasn¡¯t the image of a Prime eager to wage battles or escalate conflict, and I wondered how Megatron would perceive it. No doubt, he¡¯d have his own thoughts about this public display of faith. There were things I could say about Megatron, things I wanted to address. But not now. The media would twist my words into something else entirely, and I couldn¡¯t afford to let them control the narrative It took nearly over an hour before we finally reached the Praxian Research Center. At the steps of the entrance, a small gathering of mechs awaited us, their heads bowing in respect as we approached. ¡°Optimus Prime, it is an honor to have you visit our facilities,¡± the first mech greeted, his tone polished and precise. His teal and magenta frame stood out against the muted colors of the structure behind him. ¡°My name is Perceptor, and I am the Head Director of the Praxian Research Center.¡± As he spoke, memories drifted back to me, soft and gentle like falling rain. I recognized him instantly and couldn¡¯t help but smile warmly. ¡°You can relax, Perceptor,¡± I said, my tone reassuring. ¡°I may have changed a lot, but I still remember our conversations.¡± I turned my gaze toward another familiar face standing behind Perceptor, a mech predominantly white with red and green embellishments. ¡°You too, Wheeljack.¡± At this, the gathered mechs visibly relaxed, the tension in their frames easing as a few chuckles rippled through the group. Perceptor offered me a small smile. ¡°We weren¡¯t sure. There were rumors that you were¡­ different.¡± ¡°Different?¡± I echoed, hesitating slightly. It was true¡ªI wasn¡¯t the same Orion Pax they had once chatted with whenever Alpha Trion visited this place. ¡°I suppose so¡­,¡± I admitted, my tone careful. ¡°There¡¯s a project I need your team to work on immediately. I apologize for dropping in so suddenly, but may I borrow a good portion of your time to discuss it?¡± ¡°Certainly, My Prime,¡± Perceptor replied, his tone as courteous as ever, a reflection of the hierarchy now standing between us. I could see the curiosity in his optics, however, shining through his formality. Whatever I had to say, he was already intrigued. Wheeljack smiled at me, but I could see the tension in his frame. His movements were stiff, his unease likely stemming from my presence¡ªor perhaps from the guards that flanked me on every side. We were led inside without delay, Perceptor guiding us directly to a conference room. There was no need for a tour; I already knew this place. And yet, as we walked through its halls, it felt distant, like a memory glimpsed in a dream. Upon entering the conference room, I was escorted to the head seat¡ªthe place where Perceptor or Alpha Trion would usually sit. I hesitated for a moment, feeling slightly abashed, but quickly reminded myself: I was a Prime now. Status demanded I take my place. As I sat, Perceptor took the chair to my right, and Magnus settled on my left. Wheeljack chose the empty seat next to Perceptor, his optics darting briefly to me before focusing forward. The others filed in around the table while my guards remained standing along the walls, their postures rigid and alert. ¡°So, how can we, the Praxian Research Center, assist you with this project, Optimus Prime?¡± Perceptor asked, his tone polite yet curious. Leaning forward, I rested my elbows on the desk, intertwining my fingers as I spoke. ¡°I¡¯d like you to assemble a team to reopen and refurbish the old Energon Refinery Treatment facilities. I intend to revive the Energon Aqueducts.¡± My request startled everyone in the room. Perceptor¡¯s optics widened slightly, and Wheeljack shifted in his seat, his unease clear. Even Magnus glanced at me, his expression briefly flickering with surprise before returning to its usual stoicism. Long ago¡ªa very, very long time ago¡ªthere were rivers upon rivers of pure energon. Energon, in its original state, was liquid, flowing freely across the land. But one day, without warning, the rivers dried up. It happened around the same time Quintus Prime successfully drove the Quintessons away. The river stopped flowing, and mining for energon became the new reality. That was millions of years ago. Since then, the Energon Aqueducts have become little more than national monuments, relics of a forgotten past. After a moment of stunned silence, a startled laugh escaped Perceptor. ¡°That is¡­ whatever for, Optimus Prime?¡± Perceptor asked, his tone laced with incredulity. ¡°The Energon Aqueducts are nothing more than integral pieces of the past. Not a drop of energon has been sighted from them in ages¡­ unless¡­ you¡¯ve found some way¡­?¡± Horror settled on his faceplates as I simply smiled. ¡°Perhaps. But I need the refineries in working order first.¡± Magnus let out a shuddering gasp, his vents trembling as he looked at me in disbelief. ¡°Do you really mean that, Optimus? You¡­ you could bring back the Fluxstream?¡± I racked my neural circuits, trying to calculate just how old Magnus might be. ¡°Were you there when it was still running?¡± I asked, curiosity driving the question. Magnus nodded slowly, a faraway look settling over his optics. ¡°Yes. I was just a newspark¡­ The war with the Quintessons had just ended when the Fluxstream dried up. It happened in a matter of cycles. One moment it was there, flowing as it always had, and then¡­ gone.¡± He paused, his tone growing reflective. ¡°I remember Quintus Prime addressing us all, saying we needed to mine energon to survive. Back then, the Primacy was revered, held in the highest regard. To mine energon was considered a desecration¡ªa defacement of Primus himself. But Quintus Prime¡­ he convinced everyone it was permissible. That Primus would allow it.¡± My optics flickered briefly before I nodded to him. ¡°Yes¡­ Primus did allow it. He didn¡¯t want his children to starve.¡± Magnus inhaled sharply, clearly rattled by my response, and the others followed suit. They looked at me with a mixture of disbelief, uncertainty, fear, and perhaps even remorse. I understood why. For countless generations, the reverence for Primacy had waned, thanks in no small part to the actions of Sentinel and Zeta. To many, it had become little more than a hollow tradition. That shift in perspective had led many to doubt Primus¡¯s very existence. Pity. That needed to change. They didn¡¯t need to worship him¡ªnot as a religion¡ªbut Primus deserved to be remembered. To be known. Something else nudged at my consciousness, a fragment of valuable information surfacing within me. Quintus Prime had purposely stopped the flow of the energon rivers during the war against the Quintessons. The tides of battle were turning against us, and in a desperate move, Quintus shut off the main valve, cutting off the planet¡¯s energon supply. The Quintessons, believing the source of energon to be completely depleted, abandoned Cybertron. To them, the planet had become worthless. It was after their departure that a new system emerged¡ªa grand, idealistic plan where every bot became part of a greater cog. A functionalist system meant to ensure that energon would be available to all who needed it. Quintus¡¯s intentions had been noble, but he could never have foreseen how deeply that system would be corrupted over time. I could feel his regrets churning in my tanks, an ache that lingered in the wake of his choices. ¡°Ahem. Anyway, I could bring it back now,¡± I said, cutting through the tension. ¡°If¡­ if that¡¯s true, then how come it was never brought back before?¡± Wheeljack asked, his voice tinged with curiosity and disbelief. ¡°I mean, I get it was tied to Quintus Prime, but why didn¡¯t Sentinel Prime or Zeta Prime do it? Everyone knows energon mining is finite. The resource is depleting here on Cybertron, and that¡¯s why we¡¯ve spent recent years traveling to the stars to mine.¡± ¡°That is not for you to question, mech. Not here,¡± Magnus interjected sharply, his tone scolding. I raised a hand, stopping him. ¡°It¡¯s all right,¡± I said calmly, glancing at Wheeljack. ¡°He has a right to ask.¡± I turned to Wheeljack, meeting his gaze as I spoke. ¡°In truth, Sentinel and Zeta were false Primes. They carried and integrated internal components of Quintus Prime into their bodies, enabling them to hold the Matrix. But they were never truly attuned to it¡ªlet alone accepted by it.¡± The room fell deathly silent as my words sank in. And I didn¡¯t stop there. ¡°To get Quintus Prime¡¯s components, Sentinel murdered him and took the throne.¡± Magnus shot to his pedes, stepping back as if recoiling from the revelation, horror etched into his features. I glanced around the room; even my guards, trained to mask their emotions, were struggling to keep their expressions neutral. Perceptor buried his face in his servos. ¡°Oh, Primus¡­ after all this time¡­¡± he anguished, his voice muffled. ¡°¡­This is¡­¡± ¡°I do plan to reveal all of this information soon,¡± I said, my tone steady, ¡°but the energon aqueducts need to remain under wraps for now.¡± Lowering my voice slightly, I continued, addressing him directly. ¡°So let me ask you, Perceptor¡ªwill you help me restore the Energon Treatment Refineries? Most of the equipment will likely need upgrades, and you have the best and brightest minds on all of Cybertron here at your disposal. The Iacon Treasury will also be fully open to you, so long as the purchases are reasonable. Whatever resources you require to make this a reality, you¡¯ll have them.¡± Then I leaned forward, meeting his optics. ¡°So¡­ can I count on you to make it happen, Perceptor?¡± It took a few nano-clicks before Perceptor responded. He nodded several times, his movements deliberate as if solidifying his resolve. ¡°Yes¡­ Yes, I will do this. We will do this for you, My Prime.¡± The way he said my title carried a shift¡ªno longer tinged with the nervous hesitation he had shown earlier. Now, there was reverence and gratitude in his voice, as though he had finally accepted that I truly was a Prime. There was no telling yet how long it would take to get those refineries operational, but Perceptor was adamant. He insisted they halt all current projects and head to the site immediately. While I suggested they wait until tomorrow, Perceptor remained resolute, stating he would leave with a small team right away. Once they conducted a preliminary survey of the facility, he promised to send me an estimate of the time required for restoration. With that, the meeting came to an end. Perceptor and the other scientists filed out, but not before Magnus had them swear an oath of secrecy regarding the project and everything discussed. The weight of what was shared would remain within this room until the time was right to make it public. As the others departed, Wheeljack lingered behind, casting uncertain glances in my direction. It was clear he wanted to say something but struggled to find the words. For his sake, I rose from my seat and walked over to him. Placing my servos on his shoulders, I gave the plating a firm squeeze, a silent gesture of reassurance. His vents shuddered as he exhaled, and I could feel the tension in his frame easing slightly under my touch. ¡°Are you alright, Wheeljack?¡± I asked, my tone gentle. He stared at me as though I were otherworldly. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ you¡¯re so different. Are you¡­ are you still¡­?¡± ¡°Orion Pax?¡± My optics lowered as a faint, bitter smile tugged at my faceplates. ¡°Sort of¡­ It¡¯s hard to explain, but I still remember you, Wheeljack. And if time permits later, we can still talk about your, uh, unique inventions. Just¡­ make sure it doesn¡¯t blow up in front of me, okay?¡± His jaw dropped, and then he burst into laughter. ¡°Hey, hey! I¡¯ve improved since last time!¡± ¡°Sure you have,¡± I teased, a smirk forming. His jaw dropped even further, his expression aghast, and I couldn¡¯t help but laugh. ¡°You doubt me, Prime?¡± he shot back, mock-indignant. ¡°Just you watch¡ªyou¡¯re gonna see my next amazing invention¡ª¡± ¡°Wheeljack!! Quit bothering Optimus Prime and get over here! We need you!¡± one of his coworkers yelled from the hall. ¡°Slag! Give me a few clicks, will ya?!¡± he called back, his tone frustrated but playful. I laughed, a sense of relief washing over me as I realized nothing had changed too much between us. ¡°I¡¯ll see you around, Wheeljack. And I¡¯ll make sure to visit you all to check on your progress.¡± ¡°Hey, we won¡¯t disappoint you,¡± he said, his tone more confident now, the earlier nervousness gone. ¡°I¡¯ll see you around, Optimus.¡± ¡°Good luck to you and the Praxian Research Team, Wheeljack,¡± I replied, offering him a final nod of encouragement. Now that I thought about it, there was one more person I needed to check on. But seeing Magnus and the guards looking so drained¡ªboth mentally and emotionally¡ªfrom the information I¡¯d just shared, I decided we¡¯d head back for now. They needed time to process everything. On the train ride home, Magnus sat hunched over, silent and lost in thought. His shoulders sagged with an uncharacteristic heaviness. ¡°¡­A penny for your thoughts, Magnus?¡± I asked gently. His optic ridges furrowed as he glanced up at me, his expression puzzled. ¡°Penny¡­?¡± Ah, right. Oops. ¡°What I mean is¡­would you like to share your thoughts?¡± I offered, softening my tone. But even as I said it, I had an inkling of what weighed on him¡ªalmost as if I could¡­sense it. ¡°¡­You know there was nothing you could have done at the time, right?¡± Magnus shook his head, his fists clenching tight, trembling with barely contained rage. ¡°That¡¯s not true. If I had seen Sentinel for what he truly was¡ªif I hadn¡¯t been so blind¡ªhe didn¡¯t even grieve for more than a cycle before parading around with the Matrix in his servos¡ª!¡± ¡°Quintus Prime doesn¡¯t blame you, Magnus,¡± I said, my voice steady but firm. He turned away sharply, his shoulders tense. ¡°You couldn¡¯t know that¡ª¡± Before he could retreat any further, I reached out, grabbing his tightly clenched servos in both of mine. I held them firmly, grounding him, as my gaze locked onto his optics. ¡°Quintus Prime never blamed you.¡± Carefully, I uncurled his fist and brought it to my chest where the Matrix lay dormant. His servos trembled slightly, and his optics flickered and widened as he realized what I was trying to convey¡ªwhat Quintus Prime was currently conveying. ¡°He¡­ he can hear us?¡± he asked quietly, shaken. ¡°¡­You can hear him?¡± I shrugged my shoulders. ¡°Sort of. I don¡¯t hear voices, Magnus, but¡­I can tell he adored you. Very much.¡± Magnus lowered his head, his optics closing. His frame seemed to sag a bit, silently grieving. Meanwhile, I noticed my guards had turned their backs on us, giving us privacy and pretending they hadn¡¯t heard a single thing. How considerate of them toward their commander. We made it back to the Citadel. Once I was safely in my quarters, Magnus excused himself and the guards were dismissed for today. Ah well, since I couldn¡¯t visit Ratchet today, I¡¯ll just have to send him a message then, to see how he was doing. . . . = = = Chapter 3: Would you like to work for me? = = = Op¡¯s POV . . . My optics flickered open, and I found myself in a familiar space¡ªan endless expanse of white, streaked with light-blue, glowing lines forming a grid that stretched infinitely in all directions. There were no walls, no clear boundaries, just the faint hum of energy resonating all around me. I¡¯ve been here before. ¡°Optimus.¡± The voice echoed, deep and resonant. Slowly, I sat up and turned, my optics locking onto a massive, floating face¡ªPrimus. His head alone dominated the space, composed entirely of light-blue energy that shimmered and pulsed like a spectral beacon against the grid. ¡°Primus,¡± I said, inclining my head respectfully, smiling. ¡°It¡¯s been a while.¡± ¡°It has, my child,¡± he said warmly. ¡°Tell me. How goes your journey?¡± I didn¡¯t get up but shifted to face him, lounging comfortably on my side. The ground didn¡¯t feel too hard. Maybe it was because this was an astral place, where physical sensations were nonexistent. I was probably still back in my berth, sleeping. It had been a few deca-cycles since I emerged as Orion Pax¡ªno, Optimus Prime. I should have gotten used to that name by now, but the name still weighed heavily on me, like shoes that were far too big for me to fill. At least, the public was beginning to accept my position, especially as I started stripping power away from the Senate Council. The first to fall was Senator Proteus, who not only aided the Institution¡¯s shadowplay but was complicit in Quintus Prime¡¯s murder, working alongside Sentinel. With Magnus and other operatives, I had the Institute dismantled once I located it¡ªsomething I achieved through meditating with the Matrix. Finding its location hadn¡¯t been easy, even with Orion Pax¡¯s processing capabilities. Thoughts and feelings didn¡¯t translate well into data. They were expansive and sprawling¡ªorganic, even. Yet I still managed to find where pain and misery was festering upon this world. As soon as the Institute was dismantled, I arranged for the mechs who had been tortured to be transferred to a secure facility, with the top medics assigned to their care. One of those medics was Ratchet. ¡°Orion¡­ are you still¡­ you?¡± Ratchet had asked, his vocalizer tinged with fear and awe, his expression unreadable but for the hesitation in his optics. I smiled wearily. I hadn¡¯t realized how much it pained me every time one of Orion Pax¡¯s close associates would ask me that same question. Yet, I couldn¡¯t blame them. Their doubts weren¡¯t unfounded. ¡°I¡­ might have changed a bit, but I¡¯m still me, old friend,¡± I said, my voice steady but tinged with quiet hope. I watched him closely, silently willing him not to turn away. There were already others who avoided me, unsure what to make of me now that I didn¡¯t entirely act like Orion, or that I became a Prime. But I shouldered through it. I had to. ¡°And I need you right now.¡± I said to him. Ratchet hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward. ¡°¡­What do you need?¡± he asked, his tone softer than I expected. With Ratchet on board, the medics did everything they could for the victims of the shadowplay, but the damage was irreversible. To my growing horror, I recognized one of them¡ªSenator Shockwave of Jhiaxus. Shit. I know this story. This was from the IDW comics, wasn¡¯t it? But no, this world wasn¡¯t supposed to follow any established continuity. Not from the television series, not from the comics¡ªnone of it. This was an alternate universe of Transformers, one where events diverged completely. After all, this was the world where Orion Pax supposedly died and never became Optimus Prime. The one Primus dropped me into to "fix." So how was I supposed to fix what was already broken? I stood over Shockwave, lamenting the sight of him in his ¡®empurata¡¯ form. The sole hollowed optic, the clawed servos¡ªhe was a shadow of who he once was. Someone who was ever changing, vibrant¡ªactively changed the paint on his plates. I had no clue what to do or how to fix him. As I moved closer, an overwhelming wave of his pain and torture swept over me, and before I could stop myself, I broke down, sobbing openly. Magnus tried to pull me away, his voice firm but laced with concern. I didn¡¯t want to leave. Not yet. My grip tightened around Shockwave¡¯s servo claws, desperate for some kind of miracle¡ªor something to stop the pain that echoed within. Suddenly he was consumed in a blinding light from my touch. The Matrix hummed powerfully beneath my chestplates, its resonance nearly deafening. When the light faded, a raw, anguished cry ripped out of Shockwave¡¯s throat. His voice, strained and guttural, rose in a storm of profanities, raging on and on about ex-Senator Proteus. ¡°I¡¯LL KILL HIIIIIM!¡± Shockwave bellowed out as the medics moved to restrain him from his thrashing. ¡°Tear him limb from limb! I¡¯LL make him SUFFER!!! ARRGGHHH!!¡± Magnus ripped me away from the room as I watched, speechless. What had I done¡­? I¡¯d tried it with another mech, and the result had been the same. They regained their emotions, but at a great cost. Their bodies were healed, but not their souls. Not what lay inside. They were still¡­damaged. Even now, my interference weighed heavily on me, questioning if I had done the right thing. I turned to my Primus. ¡°¡­You didn¡¯t tell me I could heal other Transformers with my fluids, Primus,¡± I said, my voice steady but tinged with pain as Shockwave¡¯s anguished cry echoed in my mind. ¡°I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d have that sort of healing powers¡­Heh¡­It almost feels like¡­ like I¡¯m your Cleric, and you¡¯re the god I serve.¡± Primus tilted his magnificently massive head, his energy flickering faintly as if in contemplation. ¡°Cleric¡­ You mentioned this before. It has to do with Dungeons and¡­ Dragons¡­ correct?¡± I couldn¡¯t help but laugh, his words breaking through my somber mood. ¡°Hahaha, yes¡­¡± The idea was comical. The Supreme Creator of the transformers talking about a tabletop, roleplaying game. However, my thoughts dragged me back to the topic at hand: I could heal other Transformers with my fluids. Was I supposed to be Steven Universe now? Licking people to close their wounds? Oh, God. No. No way. Maybe I just needed to practice making myself cry on command instead. Wait¡­ did that mean even the fluids below¡­? A grimace spread across my face, and I shuddered in disgust at the thought. Primus, ever observant, tilted his massive head slightly, his light-blue energy flickering. ¡°What is wrong?¡± he asked, his tone curious, almost concerned. ¡°¡­I think I¡¯m suffering from body dysmorphic disorder,¡± I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. This wasn¡¯t something I could tell anyone else¡ªnot even Ratchet. He wouldn¡¯t understand my position. How could he? But Primus? He knew. He understood my circumstances better than anyone. After all, he was the one who dropped me inside Orion Pax¡¯s body. Primus raised an optic ridge, his glowing form radiating curiosity. ¡°Body dysmorphic disorder?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± I admitted, hesitating as I searched for the right words. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m always worried about¡­ the interface panels below¡­¡± Even saying it felt like too much, the words catching in my vocalizer. ¡°¡­Ahhh¡­¡± The sound lingered, thoughtful but uncertain. It became clear that Primus had no idea how to comfort me on this matter. And honestly, how could he? This was a human thing, not a transformer issue. Transformers were and are naturally hermaphrodites. Ever since the start of my ¡®isekai¡¯ journey, I¡¯d never once attempted to explore¡­ my body and its components. I¡ªI felt too uncomfortable, especially when it came to everything below the waist. The thought alone was enough to make me recoil. The integrated devices on my forearms, though? Those were different. I had no issues opening the panels there. They connected me directly to the Citadel¡¯s database, granting me the highest security clearance to the Hall of Records, and showing it to people in a holographic fashion visible for all to see if I so wished it. It was like having access to the internet. Anyway, the point is that I wasn¡¯t gonna explore any valves and/or spikes anytime soon. No sir. No thank you. ¡°How goes securing Megatron?¡± he asked, leaning in closer. Curiosity was clear in his optics. I smiled weakly. ¡°Slow. No response yet, but¡­¡± After the 300 alt-mode kits were sent, Megatron and the Decepticons stayed true to their bonds. They¡¯d been regularly sending a weekly supply of energon to Iacon, just as the contract stated. So far, Megatron had passed my test. He was definitely a mech with principles. The next test wouldn¡¯t come for a while¡ªnot until Perceptor and Wheeljack finished the repairs on the Energon Treatment Refineries. They estimated it would take a month or two to finish, but were more focused on ensuring the machinery was in proper working order rather than rushing to meet a deadline. I agreed with their approach and told them to take their time. Hopefully, it would be finished before the end of the third month. I had already drafted government plans to support miners and mining companies in the wake of an inevitable energon price collapse. The Fluxstream was an endless source of energon, and that would undoubtedly push the mining industry to the brink of obsolescence. The drafted plans included programs to help miners transition into other industries, such as energon refinement, aqueduct maintenance, or tech development. Mining companies could also be encouraged to shift their focus to extracting other valuable metals and minerals, even venturing into space. In the meantime, I would need to carefully control the release of energon from the Fluxstream to stabilize prices and prevent an immediate collapse. Eventually, though, energon would become as inexpensive to Cybertronians as a bottle of water is to a human. Lastly, I¡¯d implement buyback programs, particularly for mining companies struggling to transition. A surplus of energon is never a bad thing for the government to store, especially since energon doesn¡¯t expire¡ªunless someone tampers with it directly. Otherwise, it remains stable indefinitely. For now, I¡¯d only open the aqueducts in Iacon. Once peace negotiations with Megatron began, I could consider opening the rest of the aqueducts and refineries in other cities. I explained all this to Primus, by the way. ¡°Hmm¡­ you are wise beyond your years,¡± Primus said, sounding genuinely impressed. ¡°Thanks, but all these plans will only work if Cybertron is united,¡± I replied. ¡°¡­I¡¯m a little worried about when I have to deal with Megatron directly. Honestly, I¡¯m not sure how he¡¯ll react.¡± In this continuity, Orion Pax and Megatron had never met¡ªnot even as pen pals. However, Orion Pax had read many of Megatron¡¯s works and was quite an avid fan, much like a Potterhead to the HP series. He¡¯d even written comments that read more like editor reviews, but there was a distinct fondness in his notes on those datapads.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°If anything, I could always act like a devoted fan of his writings,¡± I said with a faint smile. I doubted there were many Decepticons who truly read his works. At least, none that I knew of from the Transformers lore¡ªthough, for some reason, everyone seemed to know of them. Suddenly, Primus lifted his optics to the sky, a flicker of alarm crossing his otherwise stoic face. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± I asked, my own concern rising. ¡°You must wake up,¡± he said, his tone urgent yet calm. ¡°Someone is in your chambers.¡± Immediately, my optics switched online, adjusting to the darkness of my chambers. I rose from my recharge slab, scanning the room. To the naked eye, there was nothing out of place. I got onto my pedes and moved to the center of the room, still searching for the intruder Primus had warned me about. My optics closed as I focused, feeling the subtle pull of gravity and the metals around me. ¡­Metal framing, pulsing like a spark¡­ Without hesitation, my hand shot upward toward the ceiling. Using magnetism and gravity, I yanked the metal down. A fairly small and lean mech fell from the ceiling with a cry of surprise, slamming to the floor with a loud grunt of pain. ¡°Aw frag¡ªAggghh!!¡± I kept the gravity on him, pinning him to the ground as I approached the figure. My room had no windows, so the only way in had to be through the doors¡ªwhere a guard was supposed to be posted. ¡°What did you do to the guard outside my chambers?¡± I demanded, increasing the pressure and forcing him harder into the floor. His metal frame strained, the sound of creaking steel mixing with the cracking of the stone beneath him. ¡°Answer me!¡± ¡°Okay, okay! H-he¡¯s fine, just¡­ knocked out¡­nggh, frag!¡± I eased up on the gravitational force, but I didn¡¯t let go. When he lifted his optics to me, I immediately received plenty of information, his misdeeds, his regrets, his crimes¡­ and most of all his name as I could see Zeta in his imprisoned cell giving one last order to his most favored hired assassin. ¡°¡­Jazz¡­?¡± I questioned. The mech froze, looking at me with his widened optics. Then his face straightened up, denying, ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about, False Prime.¡± ¡°No, you¡¯re definitely Jazz,¡± I insisted, ignoring his lies. ¡°You like music, you¡¯re very cool, very stylish, very competent, very small--¡± ¡°AYO! Size doesn¡¯t matter!!¡± he snapped, his tone indignant. I snapped my servos and pointed at him, narrowing my optics. ¡°You are Jazz! Why are you trying to kill me?¡± ¡°I wasn¡¯t planning to, honestly!¡± he said, though this time, I couldn¡¯t tell if he was lying or not. Still, I didn¡¯t believe him. ¡°Oh, really? Tell that to Senator Decimus, Senator Glavion, Circuita, Ironquill--¡± I began listing the names he felt guilty about, and his expression shifted drastically. His optics widened, and his jaw practically hit the floor as though his spark had fled him. ¡°Not to mention the people you cheated on, such as Reverb, KDQ-26, Hound, MJ-22¡ª¡± ¡°AYOOO!¡± Jazz shouted, protesting loudly. ¡°Okay, okay! You are a Prime! You are a true Prime! Quit calling out the names of my past lovers! How do you even know that?!¡± I couldn¡¯t help but grin¡ªa little too evilly¡ªas I leaned in close, my voice dropping to a whisper. ¡°That¡¯s because I can see the sins crawling up your back.¡± Undertale reference, but it was effective as his faceplates paled¡ªif transformers could change color so abruptly. Finally, I released him from the gravity pull. He immediately stood up, taking a few cautious steps away from me. I didn¡¯t like the idea of Jazz attempting to kill me¡ªat least, I hoped that wasn¡¯t his real reason for being here, to complete Zeta¡¯s final order. ¡°So¡­ are you going to follow through on Zeta¡¯s last command?¡± I asked. He clenched his dentas, now watching me warily. I mean, he hadn¡¯t tried to murder me yet, but the guilt was still written all over him. An assassin who actually cared about the people he killed. If I hadn¡¯t seen that, I would have never guessed who he was, or who had sent him. Zeta was currently still in prison, awaiting for trial that would happen soon. ¡°¡­I got a question,¡± he said. I folded my arms, watching him warily. ¡°I may have an answer. Go on.¡± Jazz¡¯s mouth gaped open before closing again, his throat clicking audibly. ¡°¡­Okay¡­ why didn¡¯t you kill me when you had the chance?¡± I tilted my head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­?¡± ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know what you just did, or what kind of power you have¡ªtelekinesis or something¡ªbut¡­ you could¡¯ve killed me,¡± he said, his tone a mix of confusion and frustration. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you? You would¡¯ve been justified. I mean, I was trying to offline you.¡± ¡°You said nano-clicks ago that you weren¡¯t planning to¡ª¡± ¡°No, no, even before that! Okay? You knew I was in the room. What even gave me away?¡± I blinked. ¡°Oh, Primus told me.¡± He stared at me, his optics unblinking. ¡°¡­Primus told you¡­?¡± I gave him a look. ¡°What? Don¡¯t look at me like I¡¯m the crazy one. You¡¯re the one who decided to sneak into my chambers while I was sleeping, you creep.¡± ¡°Ayo, first off, I am not a creep. Second, what the SLAG is happening right now!? Why am I here arguing with you?!¡± Jazz yelled, throwing his servos into the air before stomping over to a bench. He slumped down, grabbing his head with both servos. ¡°Primus, kill me now¡­¡± ¡°Oh, Jazz, he¡¯d never kill you,¡± I said with a smirk. ¡°Beat you over the head for your hits and cheats, sure, but¡ª¡± ¡°Please. PLEASE. Stop,¡± Jazz groaned, burying his face deeper into his servos. Then he froze, lifting his head to glare at me indignantly. ¡°¡­Hits and cheats?!¡± I shrugged. ¡°What?¡± Jazz¡¯s jaw hung slack before he shook his head in defeat. ¡°You know what? You win. You win, Optimus Prime. I. Lost.¡± ¡°That¡¯s great to hear. What did I win, exactly?¡± I asked, carefully stepping closer. A flicker of remorse hit me for yanking him around so much, but honestly, he¡¯d been taking the bait the entire time. It was just too much fun to stop, but now the little game was over. ¡°I mean, why are you even here, Jazz?¡± I asked him. ¡°You never planned to kill me, because you probably checked first if I had a clean record, and you know that I do.¡± Jazz tensed for a moment, his servos tightening, before letting out a resigned sigh. ¡°Yeah¡­ I know¡­¡± The mechs Jazz had killed were all greedy and corrupt, every single one. Zeta Prime knew that and had decided to use Jazz as a tool, but come on¡ªOrion Pax had the cleanest of records. He was practically Alpha Trion¡¯s sole disciple. No, he was Alpha Trion¡¯s only disciple, following him around like a loyal puppy trailing after its master. Did he resent Alpha Trion for leaving him and going to Primus? Maybe a little. Because the moment Alpha Trion was gone, doors opened for Orion Pax¡ªdoors that had been closed to him before to shield him from the corruption festering within the Senate. It was Alpha Trion¡¯s absence that led him to Megatron¡¯s writings, to the discovery of the Institute¡¯s shadowplay experiments, and to uncovering the horrors within. It empowered him to fight for justice for the Institute¡¯s victims, gathering evidence against Zeta Prime and Senator Proteus. But in the end, Orion Pax was murdered under the guise of the Matrix rejecting him when he was told to swear the truth on it. And then I came in. Reborn as Orion Pax and Optimus Prime. I threw Zeta Prime into prison, yet even from behind bars, he still managed to inconvenience my new life. Sometimes, I wondered if keeping Zeta alive was worth it. But I knew I had to hold out. I just needed to make that prison more secure. If nothing else, though, meeting Jazz was the one good thing that came out of all this. ¡°Hey, Jazz.¡± ¡°¡­What?¡± ¡°Would you like to work for me?¡± He raised his head to meet my beaming smile, completely taken aback by the question. For a few nano-clicks, he just stared, but then his optic ridges narrowed, and he straightened up, looking deadly serious. ¡°Who do you want offed?¡± ¡°Oh, uh, no one,¡± I answered quickly, waving my servos dismissively. ¡°I was thinking of hiring you as my principal aide.¡± Jazz¡¯s optics bugged out as he shot to his pedes. ¡°Whaaaaaaaa¡ª?! WAIT¡­ whaaaaaaaaaaaaatt?!¡± Well, he¡¯s surprised. ¡°You¡¯re insane! Absolutely INSANE!¡± Jazz shouted, pacing back and forth, waving his servos wildly. ¡°Why do you even want to hire ME? How could you possibly trust me¡­!?¡± ¡°Look,¡± I said, folding my arms. ¡°You¡¯re clearly capable¡ªyou managed to invade my chambers, which is one of the most secured guarded places in Iacon. Honestly, even the guards are among the most highly trained elites in the Royal Guard, and our security system isn¡¯t exactly a joke. It¡¯s baffling how one small mech managed to sneak through it all so easily without any detection.¡± Jazz grimaced. ¡°Please stop calling me small.¡± ¡°And you¡¯re extremely charismatic¡ªrelationships included. The body count proves it.¡± Jazz groaned, clutching his chest as if wounded. ¡°I¡¯m begging you! Please!! Stop bringing them up!¡± ¡°The point is,¡± I continued, unfazed, ¡°I need someone who can follow me everywhere¡ªeven into danger¡ªand survive.¡± Jazz reeled back, narrowing his optics at me skeptically. ¡°Follow you into danger? Are you¡­ planning to head somewhere dangerous?¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± I replied with a shrug. ¡°I don¡¯t have future visions or anything, but I think it¡¯s always good to be prepared.¡± I paused, before continuing on with my proposal. ¡°If you accept my offer, I¡¯ll pardon your crimes. Wipe your record clean. A full slate, so you can start over.¡± ¡°You¡­ you can¡¯t do that, can you?¡± he asked, staring at me with a mix of skepticism and hope. I don¡¯t know. Can I? Lifting my right forearm, I opened the grid and accessed the high-level clearance area. It didn¡¯t take long to pull up quite the hefty file on Jazz. With a simple flick and click, his entire record was wiped clean, leaving only the essentials: his designation number, his relations, and, of course, his love for music. ¡°There. All done,¡± I said with a satisfied nod. ¡°I DIDN¡¯T EVEN SAY YES YET¡ªMPPPHH!¡± ¡°Stop yelling!¡± I hissed, harshly clamping my servos over his mouth. After a few more rounds of back-and-forth, Jazz finally gave up and sprawled across the bench, looking completely defeated. Meanwhile, I finished completing his new employee file and sent his digital badge through the comms so he would have access to most facilities here. ¡°There you go! Congratulations on becoming my Principal Aide, Jazz,¡± I said cheerfully. ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to working with you!¡± Jazz groaned miserably, rubbing his optics. ¡°I-I can¡¯t believe what just happened.¡± I ignored his despair entirely. ¡°You can sleep on the bench tonight. Tomorrow, we¡¯ll get you situated with your own living quarters, and I¡¯ll give you a tour.¡± ¡°Yes, yes, as you wish, My Prime,¡± Jazz said, resigning himself to his fate as he shifted into a more comfortable position on the long, cushioned bench. He paused, grumbling, ¡°¡­How is this bench more comfortable than the one back at my place?!¡± ¡°Hahaha, good night, Jazz.¡± I made my way back to the recharge slab, pulling the mesh sheets and cushioned fabric over myself. Closing my optics, I tried to relax, urging myself to drift off in the hopes of continuing my chat with Primus. Sadly, he didn¡¯t return. Not for a very long time. . . . = = = Magnus¡¯s POV . . . Earlier that evening, Magnus scanned through a series of dossiers on the most qualified soldiers within the military elite. There were a few he might have considered had they not defected to the Decepticons¡ªJetfire, for example. Fortunately, there were still promising candidates among those who remained. ¡°Orion Pax is my most talented, peerless student, Magnus. There is no way I¡¯m ever letting Sentinel or Zeta lay a servo on him. Not even you, Magnus, old friend. I¡¯m still fighting to keep Perceptor¡¯s servos off him.¡± Magnus paused, Alpha Trion¡¯s words echoing in his mind. Orion Pax. Alpha Trion was one of the oldest Cybertronians to have ever lived, even older than Quintus Prime. Primus, Magnus could still recall scenes of Alpha Trion treating Quintus like his own scion, much to the warrior mech¡¯s embarrassment. But after Quintus¡¯s passing, Alpha Trion had become solemn and withdrawn for a time. That changed when Orion Pax was assigned to the Hall of Records, and Alpha Trion discovered his remarkable capabilities. Even Magnus had been impressed. No mech was born with the massive data storage and extraordinary processing power that Orion possessed. He absorbed knowledge like a sponge, taking in everything without pause. Orion followed Alpha Trion everywhere, like a shadow trailing its source. And Alpha Trion, in turn, took Orion Pax everywhere he went¡ªshielding him from the worst aspects of their functionalist society. ¡°You must protect him, Magnus. His spark is too soft for this world.¡± Soft. Magnus gritted his dentas as he recalled that day in the Senate Council meeting. Orion Pax had claimed to have evidence of the Institute¡¯s existence and had boldly accused both Zeta Prime and Senator Proteus of their deep involvement in its operations. Ever since Alpha Trion¡¯s death, Orion had been exposed to the darker corners of their society, and it had lit a fire of frustration and determination within him¡ªa relentless drive to confront the injustice he saw. He had set his sights on toppling Zeta Prime, a goal Magnus wasn¡¯t prepared to pursue, not with the ever-present threat of Megatron looming over them. ¡°Will you tell the truth and only the truth?¡± Zeta Prime had asked. Magnus could still see the unwavering fire in Orion¡¯s optics as he responded, ¡°I will!¡± ¡°Then swear it!¡± Zeta said, holding the Matrix aloft toward the archivist. ¡°Swear upon the Matrix!¡± The moment Orion touched the relic, a blinding light shot out, piercing through his chest. He collapsed instantly, his spark extinguished. Magnus couldn¡¯t believe what had just happened. The Matrix¡­ it had killed another mech. It had killed Orion Pax. ¡°Do you all see this?¡± Zeta Prime¡¯s grating voice broke through the stunned silence. ¡°Primus has punished Orion Pax for his lies! He¡ªargh!¡± Zeta cried out as the Matrix suddenly shocked him, forcing him to drop it. To Magnus¡¯s surprise, the relic hovered in the air as if it had a mind of its own. It floated over to Orion Pax¡¯s lifeless body and began to glow even brighter. Magnus watched, mesmerized, as Orion¡¯s body was engulfed in the radiant light. His corpse lifted off the ground, and the fatal injury across his chest began to seal in real-time, the damage vanishing as though it had never happened. Piece by piece, his form changed¡ªhis plating grew stronger, his frame more reinforced, and he stood several inches taller than before. When the light faded, Orion landed gracefully on his pedes. No¡ªOptimus Prime landed. As soon as Zeta Prime ordered the guards to arrest the former archivist, Optimus raised his hand and uttered a single, commanding word: ¡°Kneel.¡± At that command, everyone dropped to their knees, unable to resist the overwhelming force of gravity bearing down on their shoulders and backs. Magnus could still feel the chills running down his spinal strut as he remembered witnessing that moment. The fierceness in Optimus¡¯ gaze¡­ Soft-hearted? Maybe Orion was, but never Optimus Prime. Magnus wasn¡¯t sure what sort of force¡ªgood or evil¡ªhad been brought into their world of Cybertron this time, but he had to believe Optimus would be better than the Primes who came before him. Right? Yet Magnus was filled with worries. This Optimus was completely different from the Orion Pax he once knew, as if his personality had undergone a sudden switch. Still, his doubts were tested against the knowledge Optimus brought forth from the Matrix¡ªrevelations such as restarting the Fluxstream. And Quintus Prime¡­ Magnus¡¯s reservations about Optimus Prime finally began to waver the day they safely secured the victims of the Institute¡¯s shadowplay. He had watched the former archivist break down, sobbing in despair over another mech. The sight rattled something deep within Magnus, challenging his perceptions of the new Prime. Truly. Truly soft-hearted. And then Optimus Prime did what no medical bot could accomplish. He healed them¡ªmechs whose damage had been deemed irreversible. A few medics had even quietly suggested putting them offline, believing there was nothing left to be done. Yet, with a simple touch and a few tears, Optimus made the impossible happen. The damaged mech began to glow, enveloped in a bright white light that defied all explanation. When the glow faded, the mech roared out their anguish, their emotions flooding back. They were alive again. Magnus couldn¡¯t deny it anymore. He had to believe. Primus was real, and He had sent Optimus to fix this broken world¡ªa world thoroughly corrupted by Sentinel and Zeta. And here he was, looking over dossier files to see which mech he should place at Optimus¡¯s side to protect him and keep him safe while Magnus would do whatever he needed to get done to fulfill his Prime¡¯s orders without worrying about his safety. He picked out two files. #KDK-16 | Designation: Hot Rod #KDL-27 | Designation: Red Alert . . . = = =