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One Prime after another. They watched them all fall.
Prima was the first, made alongside it by the great creator. He was glorious in word and deed. Untainted, loyal to the cause. Dutiful until the very end when enemies from the stars struck him down. Never once did he waver, and always he remained firm. He was not loving and they did not know him as well as those who came after, but he knew his function. Much was learned from him, and from Prima came their purpose. It observed the first of the Primes, it learned from him, and in the end they understood what its design was.
When Prima fell, it knew others had to take his place. Pure untainted sparks worthy of the mantle of the first. Thus, they searched for a worthy vessel. During those times it did not know how it was to make another like the first, but it acted and called upon temporary stewards. Mortals, young and impressionable, carried it in its search. The mortals did not know or understand as they were twisted and altered, their emotions changed so that the stewards would obey it without question. But they were not required to know or understand. The purpose they fulfilled was greater than they were. As such, when its stewards were killed and it was forced to find new ones, it felt no sorrow.
Then there came Roadracer, a menial worker serving under the invaders. It could not see the ascendant, not as mortals did. However, it could feel the one before it, and it knew that he was worthy. He had the strength needed to repair the world and fulfill the role the first left behind. It did not wait and risk the moment fading. It called to the one before it and offered a chance for freedom at the cost of self. Roadracer understood and thus accepted them as they merged with him.
The Matrix recalled that first merging in perfect detail. A young untouched spark yearning for change, for freedom. It took those traits, it tore into the offering before it, ripping away memory, information, CNA, data, traits, ideas, and anything else it thought might be useful. Then, it called out to the place between the stars, accepting a shard of the great creator with utmost reverence. Only once it had the unawoken shard did it dig into Roadracer with intention. It tore away a small piece, not enough to kill, but enough to weaken. Then it merged the piece with the shard with utmost care.
That was how Guardian Prime came to be.
The little Prime was so young, so innocent. The little Prime did not know save for that which the Matrix offered. Roadracer was pushed deep behind the Matrix where he would be unable to hurt or cause issues but still fulfill his design. The Matrix knew what it was meant to do now, it knew its function. The memories it took told it of the surface, showcasing the suffering of the children of the great creator. They could not tolerate such an offense, not when the first fought so hard to guard the world that they existed upon. Thus it urged its infant ward onward and allowed Roadracer to guide, to teach, and to direct the Prime as Guardian fought against the invaders from the stars. All was going well, and the Matrix was learning. But they were quick to learn that unlike the first, mortals are finicky beings.
Roadracer grew upset as the invaders were driven back. He wished to retake control despite having agreed to give himself fully to the Matrix in exchange for the honor of Siring a Prime. The little Prime, being so very loyal and enraptured with his Sire, was quick to obey the order to fight harder. The Matrix did not understand at the time, but looking back, it seemed as though Roadracer thought that if Guardian died, he would regain control.
He was wrong. Guardian, being so loving and eager to please his Sire, fell in battle with but a cry of anguish. The Matrix had never felt such loss. The first was their companion, a sibling of sorts. But this… Guardian was their creation, their child. Guardian was their firstborn, and because of his foolish Sire and the Matrix’s failure to keep Roadracer in line, Guardian was dead. The little one had wanted to have so much, to help free his people and drive the enemy back. He was not the most intelligent, but he had strength, hope, and determination. All of which was gone, wiped away by the selfishness of a mortal.
They cried out, they wept as Guardian faded away and Roadracer returned to the embrace of the great creator, the Matrix unable to keep their creation’s spark ablaze with how deeply the wound went. Mortal frames were so fragile. It would have to try again, it would need to make a stronger frame, one that would not creak and bend to a mortal blade. It would not lose another child in the same manner, and it would not allow the Sire to have as much influence.
One of the originals came to them as they lamented their lost creation. They knew him from what they saw from the first. He was Alpha Trion, the recorder of the Primes, and he who saw a piece of the great creator’s plan. He did not speak to it, but he did not need to. Alpha Trion took it into his arms, and from there he took it all across Cybertron. The Matrix could not see, but it could sense. Alpha Trion took them to many sparks, but they were not what it required. Its first had been killed because of the foolishness of his Sire. The next Prime needed one who was cautious, one who would fear and obey.
Thus, there came the next Prime Sire, a skittish young acolyte of the newly developed Primacy. He was innocent compared to Roadracer, far calmer, and with hopeful dreams of changing the world for the better. He was perfect for the role ahead, especially when he bowed before the Matrix, willing and eager to obey. That was the Matrix’s sign that he was the correct choice. Roadracer viewed the Matrix as a mere tool, but Cloudburst, the sweet and pure priest knew his place. He knew what the Matrix was and to kneel before its might.
Perfect, pure, and clean. The Matrix was kind with Cloudburst, at least as much as it could be. It coddled its newest vessel and sang sweet songs as it tore into him, taking everything of use. The memories were something the Matrix cared for a great deal. So much information, all of which would serve their new Prime well alongside the memories the Matrix stored within their core from the first and from Guardian.
They called out to the great creator and soon enough another shard was given to them. They took it, they molded it, and they gave it design through the use of Cloudburst’s spark. Before long, yet another little Prime was formed, stronger than Guardian in the frame and unknowing of any woes. He was ready to be the leader the people of Cybertron needed. Nova was excellent, a perfect leader with the caution and knowledge needed to succeed. Unlike Roadracer, Cloudburst never fought back. He was a dutiful teacher, kind and loving toward the young Prime. As such, the Matrix did not concern itself with the mortal Sire and instead dedicated all of its time toward preparing, collecting knowledge, and storing it for times to come. It learned all that it could, keeping it preserved within itself for when it might be needed.
The war was won, the invading Quintessons were pushed back, and Cybertron began its long road to recovery. All the while they watched in joy as Nova led the charge, creating order and structure amidst the chaos with the gentle guidance of his mortal Sire. They couldn’t have been more proud when Nova reached out to them, preening with excitement and glee as he showed them Cybertron’s development. All was well, all was perfect, and the Matrix basked its secondborn in its affection. The Prime Sire was content to guide and Nova was performing spectacularly. The death of Guardian had been a tragedy, but Nova was setting things right…
At least, until Alpha Trion returned once more.
The recorder Prime came from nowhere and without reason. He stood before Nova and offered to teach. The Matrix saw no reason to be concerned, and if anything they were thrilled at the idea. More knowledge for Nova meant that he could perform even better. It seemed like a perfectly acceptable proposal, one that even Cloudburst encouraged. Thus they did not stop Nova from accepting the elder Prime’s guidance and instead dedicated themselves to storing all the data collected so that future Primes might use it, that was if there was even a need for future Primes.
Nova was so good, so pure. He would not fall like Guardian… at least that was what the Matrix thought.
Alpha Trion whispered of treachery, of fear. He told Nova of how the world was out to destroy him and that one wrong move would be his downfall. Cloudburst was always a fearful mech, and that trait had passed to the young Prime. As soon as Nova suspected possible betrayal, the caution the Matrix had fostered within him grew out of control. Poor little Nova stood no chance when his fears grew and he began to cut all others out of his life save for Alpha Trion and a select few whom the recorder Prime permitted. The Matrix was scared, fearful that its dear child was losing his way.
They tried to call Nova back, to ease his fears and take away some of the burden of control. When they could, they operated Nova’s frame and tried to dampen his emotions. But Cloudburst was scared as well, and the Matrix could do nothing to stop him from expressing his concerns. Being such a faithful member of the Primacy in life ensured that Cloudburst believed every word Alpha Trion uttered as if it were gospel from the great creator himself. It was his singular flaw worthy of note, and it led to his and Nova’s downfall.
No matter what the Matrix did, they were unable to stop Nova’s uneasy inner circle from having him killed in terror for their own lives. The Matrix cried and screamed as its pure and innocent creation bled out on the ground, a blade to his neck ending his life. Cloudburst faded first, but the Matrix clung to Nova, singing songs and whispering sweet nothings as its dear child wept in terror for the death that awaited him. The Matrix did not stop their song, not even when Nova’s body, and consequently the Matrix, were dragged out to the wastes to rot. They did not halt their comforting embrace until long after Nova was gone.
Another child. Dead because of the weakness of mortals and the meddling of others.
They wept for vorns, remaining within the tattered frame of their child and not bothering to call for a steward. They saw no need. They needed to grieve, to lament, and to cry for the loss of divine life. Every Prime was precious, for each was made from a shard of the great creator. To those two due to foolishness and oversights… the Matrix despised all that it had become. It was meant to forge Primes, guard them, guide them, and light their path. And yet it was so ignorant as to be unable to stop its dear ones from being manipulated. Pathetic, worthless, broken.
It stopped paying attention to time until Alpha Trion returned again. Bitterness wormed its way into the Matrix the moment it sensed the recorder Prime’s presence. It was because of this foul thing that their little one was dead. Alpha Trion brought fear into Nova’s pure spark and frightened him. Alpha Trion killed their dearest child.
“Calm yourself. A pretender walks amongst the children of Primus calling himself a Prime. He bears a fake made in your image and his corruption runs deep.” The recorder Prime spoke, and for once the Matrix truly listened. It did not hear as mortals did but rather felt the words being spoken as vibrations. Even still, it understood. Someone was pretending to be one of its dear children. Someone was ruining everything. It could not stand. Nova needed to be avenged.
“I have prepared several potential vessels. Choose from amongst them and end this corruption.” Alpha Trion spoke, and without hesitation, the Matrix obeyed. Alpha Trion took them to a new place and before them were dozens of selected vessels. The Matrix was hopeful, but as it examined every offered vessel, it found them lacking. They were all good mecha with intentions to better the world, but there was something missing, a spark of intention that they all lacked. And yet Alpha Trion did not stop. Again and again, he brought the Matrix to potential vessels, urging it to pick from amongst them.
None were sufficient, none were what they required, but the longer they waited, the more damage would befall the world around them. They were running out of time, and thus they were forced to pick from amongst the unclean. Runway ended up being their final choice. He was an ambitious mech, too ambitious. He had little faith in the Primacy, but at least he knew to bow before the Matrix when they were offered to him. Runway was not perfect, not like Cloudburst. However, he was sufficient and possessed great knowledge and status, both of which a young Prime would need.
They called a third time, and again they received a shard. From that shard and from Runway they created Sentinel, a young Prime the Matrix created with great dubiousness. It did all it could to lessen the ambition and lower the mortal selfishness. But the end result of this was a Prime who held little love for the people as individuals and instead cared only for them as a whole. Sentinel was a glorious warrior and a master expansionist, quickly creating an empire with Runway’s guidance. But Runway was a poor influence, an unclean vessel that corrupted the pure shard that made up Sentinel Prime.
Expand expand expand. That was the demand Runway pushed forward at all times. Sentinel listened like a good child was meant to. He threw the empire out, capturing worlds and creating colonies. But Sentinel’s reach was too great, and the seeds left by the false Nominus Prime grew into disgusting cruel systems of oppression. Sentinel attempted to make it work, but he did not care for the people, he did not love them or have any patience for their suffering. The caste system was born under his watchful optics, and the children of Primus wept.
The Matrix watched and did all it could to dissuade its creation, urging Sentinel back onto the right path. But Runway’s grip was greater than theirs, and in the end… the Matrix had no other choice. It wept as it worked, but quickly as its poor corrupted child recharged, the Matrix disconnected itself from its dear creation. Sentinel felt nothing, he merely faded away while being basked in love and affection, likely living out a lovely dream. Runway on the other servo was left in agony as the Matrix wrapped around him instead, shocking and prodding, making the end of his life a miserable one.
Sentinel Prime died during recharge due to unforeseen health complications and the Matrix screamed. Another child lost due to the corruption of mortals and poorly placed trust in another.
Alpha Trion came to them again. He tried to make them choose another vessel, but the Matrix refused. Hundreds were brought before them, but even the pure ones the Matrix rejected. It was too soon. Guardian was slaughtered due to the selfishness of mortals. Nova fell to fear and manipulation. Sentinel was born unclean and slowly left to rot within it. The Matrix would not watch another of its children die in a similar manner. And thus, it did nothing. It remained silent until at last Alpha Trion seemed to grow sick of it.
The recorder Prime brought them down the tunnels where only Primes walked, and there he placed them into a contraption, leaving them to remain locked in isolation down in the dark. There was no life, no sounds or sparks to feel. It was just the Matrix and their knowledge, their loss, and their growing desperation. For long vorns they remained silent, weeping and lamenting. Then they grew to call out for a steward, but all those who came to answer their calls perished due to the contraption that held them in place. They tried to demand an answer from Alpha Trion, but he ignored their cries. All he told them was that a vessel was being prepared.
The Matrix was not hopeful.
Alone in the dark, they raged. The children of Primus were crying, screaming, and dying. Where before the Matrix refused to obey, it now shrieked as it tried to be free. It needed to find a Prime, it needed to fix things. Yet, none ever released it. Alpha Trion abandoned it. They were alone.
Desperation clawed at them in every conceivable form, and eventually, in their madness, a gateway opened. Their cries echoed into the void, and there they felt, they saw. The purest of children, the most untainted of shards. A small perfect being… one they knew to be the innocent Thirteen. It was them, the sweet Thirteenth of the Primes, the one who had not an ion of anger or wrath in their core. They were perfect, and the Matrix could not help but reach out, trying to sing and call for them. Thirteen was what they needed, what Cybertron needed. The great creator was offering the dear one to it, and it would not object. Now all it required was a vessel for its dear charge.
Against all the odds, it was Alpha Trion who delivered.
A vessel was brought and strapped down beneath it. The Matrix scanned the spark before it and found itself gleeful for the first time since Nova. The vessel had the right ambition, the right traits, and drive. The vessel was perfect for sweet little Thirteen.
’Hush hush will not hurt love you dear vessel will give you a great gift calm calm calm-’
The Matrix sent out waves of soothing love, wrapping it all in comfort. The vessel was afraid, but that was fine. Such a pure vessel was bound to be frightened due to something like the Matrix. The Matrix was a relic after all, and mortals tended to flee in the sight of such things. It understood and it hummed and sang as the contraption holding it lowered down toward the vessel. The vessel of course cried out, calling for someone who the Matrix did not know. At that, the Matrix grew concerned. All its vessels were nervous, but this one was terrified. Alpha Trion must have done a poor job teaching the little things about what was to come.
’Sweet one rest all is well pure thirteen will listen and care for you will love you will adhere to you do not fear do not scream all is well-’
Again the Matrix tried to soothe but to no avail. The vessel screamed and arched away as the Matrix began to merge with him. As soon as it was within its vessel’s frame, the Matrix got right to work trying to calm its precious vessel down so that sweet Thirteen would be safe. Data was collected, memory taken, CNA strands examined and cleansed, and most importantly, the spark was examined. The Matrix sensed something different with this vessel, it was repulsed by the Matrix, and that alone nearly had it faltering as it chipped away a piece of Orion Pax’s spark. But it paid it little mind as it forged its newest Prime, its sweet child.
This one was different. This Prime was made from an original. The Matrix fully devoted itself to crafting everything just as it should be to ensure the little one had the best chance. All memory was inserted, the frame altered and adjusted for war, coding strung and spun to give the little Prime superior senses, and lastly, the vessel was pushed back into the protective casing the Matrix forged within the spark chamber. All was right as the Matrix allowed the newly forged Optimus Prime to settle and lovingly reach out to his Sire.
That was when the Matrix froze in absolute terror.
The vessel tried to attack Optimus. Orion Pax tried to shy away, to flee before him. This was wrong, this was very wrong. The Matrix scanned the vessel again, this time with less glee and with more criticism. That was when they saw.
A wretched bond, one tainted with everything mortal. Roadracer and Runway returned the Matrix’s memory on instinct, and it knew what it needed to do. It could not be, it could not allow its Prime to die because of mortals again. This vessel was impure, the darkness hidden within him now too deeply rooted to be removed. The Matrix could only flounder as it pulled Optimus close to itself, pushing Orion Pax away as it tried to scramble for reason.
’Sleep sleep creator is here rest rest rest-’
As it soothed its increasingly worried creation, the Matrix made its decision. It could not allow the corruption to spread. There was nothing it could do to eliminate it, but it could contain it. Further analysis could be done later, but for the time being, damage control was in order. Thus it wrapped around Orion’s containment and created a shield, blocking anything from entering or leaving, including emotional bonds. Then, just to be safe, it sifted through Orion’s memory which had been gifted to Optimus, and from there it censored all that it could on such short notice. It would decide what was safe later, but for now, it had a job to do.
It would not lose this child, not so long as it functioned.