Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Since he was brought online, D-16 always found comfort in following rules.

At first, this was quite a literal statement, referring solely to the codes of conduct established by their superiors, the regulations drilled into every miner's processor as firmly as they drilled into Energon veins for cycles upon end... for all of their prior existence, and all of what is to come. That is simply what a cogless miner is built for, and Sentinel Prime was trying his best to find the Matrix, so they just had to keep their heads down, and never complain. That's all there is to existence. Right?

But Orion Pax, he was different. He was not content with merely existing. That bright-opticed mech wanted to live. And before he knew it, he found himself inserting a new entry to the list that drove his very being.

Rule Number One: Protect Orion Pax at All Costs. For he dared to embody a dream that D-16 couldn't bring himself to consider.

Only time would tell how well he would be able to stay in line with this new protocol.

---
The rooftop was another thing that brought D-16 a sense of comfort. It was where he and Orion would meet after a long shift, and if he was being honest, he sometimes found their little hangouts more relaxing than a full night of recharge.

This, however, was decidedly not one of those instances. On the contrary, he was currently trying to confirm that his audials hadn't malfunctioned on him.

The Iacon 5000. Orion had suggested that they, miners with no way to transform and defend themselves, lacking the training and maintenance that racers were privileged to receive, should join the most brutal and endurance-straining public event on Cybertron. Where an endless spiral of things could go wrong, broadcasted for all to see at that.
The danger was so undeniable, D-16 could almost hear warning sirens go off. This was definitely, unquestionably at odds with Rule Number One.

Not that Orion could ever change his bold and foolish ways. They'd gotten into a heated discussion, and whilst his friend had verbally conceded, he saw that telltale glint in his optics, heard the cheeky undertone in his words, and knew deep down that Orion was going to need saving from some other half-baked scheme not long from now. Oh Primus, what was he ever going to do with him?

Yet, what would he ever do without him? If only D-16 could be more convincing. Have the potential consequences of Orion's actions hold more weight in his own mind, not just his best friend's. If only Orion Pax could cooperate with the Rule that was formed to protect him. If only he knew it existed. But surely D-16 couldn't just tell him how much he meant to him. That would be too overwhelming. That would be out of line. That would be reckless, and irresponsible, and exactly the sort of thing that Orion would do - -

"I'm worried I'm not gonna be able to save you next time!" blurted D-16.

As the words spilled out, his servos immediately jumped to hover in front of his face, as if his vocaliser had betrayed him and let loose something forbidden. As if it was a sin to just... communicate.

Upon hearing the previously unspoken truth, Orion snapped round to look at him, wearing an expression which attempted to be reassuring, but just made him look guilty. He seemed like he wanted to convince D-16 that he could take care of himself, that he didn't need someone cleaning up after him all the time, but couldn't find the right way to articulate what was not necessarily completely accurate.

"What if those guards had caught you in the Archives, or you never managed to unfold yourself back that one time, or, Primus forbid, you got trapped down there under all the debris when the mine collapsed? What then?" D-16 found himself continuing, venting hard in frustration. Orion's optics widened for a nanoklik before he feebly averted his gaze. "Jazz needed help, D. I couldn't just watch by idly. I couldn't... it's not right, it cannot be right to just let him be a sacrifice. I had to try. No matter what the protocol says, his spark isn't any less valuable than the rest of ours."

Words formed on the tip of D-16's glossa, but he harshly swallowed the thought that Orion's life was in fact more valuable to him than any of the other miners'. He decided rather swiftly he didn't want to confront the implications of that. Resetting his vocaliser, he opted instead to respond from a less... emotionally driven direction.

"You know the protocols are designed to keep us safe. Sentinel Prime cares about us, he wouldn't make rules that put us in danger. Someone must've calculated that we'd survive in that sort of situation, so that's why the instructions are... like that."
D-16 looked down for a second, before grabbing Orion by the shoulders and locking gaze with strengthened resolve. 
"And now look at what you've done! Elita-One was demoted so many sub-levels, and it's a miracle we weren't also thrown down with her! You say you believe we can be much more than miners, but you're the one who's sabotaging our only opportunities to be anything better!"

"That's exactly the problem!" Orion exclaimed. D-16's digits were digging into his frame, only loosening a touch when two blue servos reached up to grasp his arms. He was slightly taken aback to see his kind-sparked friend become so agitated. "If only the others could see our potential, that we are 'more than meets the eye', then we wouldn't have to work ourselves till exhaustion just for a glimmer of a possibility. We deserve the right to choose who we are! Don't you want to feel that freedom, D? Shouldn't we at least try to fight for a world where we aren't punished for the way we were created?"

"It's not a punishment if I'm happy with who I am." D-16 said bluntly.
Orion was unconvinced, pulling both his and his friend's arms down and encapsulating both of D-16's servos between his own.
"I think you're just scared."

D-16 had never felt so vulnerable. Orion was right, he was right far more often than the grey mech wanted to admit. The cogless being treated worse than the cogged was an injustice. Having to sacrifice other mechs for those privileged cogged bots was unfair. But if he was to truly admit these facts to himself, to break from his Rules, then he'd have to admit that Sentinel Prime, their leader, their hope, was actually complicit to everything that shackled them. And he was scared. He was scared he wouldn't be able to pick up the pieces once he shattered his worldview. Protocol was safe. Following instructions was comforting. He couldn't admit that all the other Rules in his life were also incompatible with Rule Number One. Not yet. 

"Even if you want things to change..." he began slowly, venting softly as he considered his next words, "...you can't just throw yourself at stuff and hope it works out. I'll stop being so sca- concerned if you stop being so reckless. I don't want there to be a time when I'm done saving you." Orion's grasp felt dizzyingly warm.

"D..." Aqua optics locked onto gold ones, so softly it felt as if the rest of Iacon had to hold their vents just for them. "I'm... sorry. I shouldn't keep dragging you into things when you're not ready. I want to build a better future with you. That's why I do all this. You know I... I've always got your back."

D-16 could almost feel his spark fluttering in his chest. "No matter what."

---
Recharge had come and gone, and the illustrious Iacon 5000 was drawing near. D-16 felt in good spirits as he and Orion made their way towards the viewing stands. They were relatively early, so they should be able to get a good spot.

Just then, Orion pulled him aside into an alleyway, and as their surroundings darkened, he felt a sinking feeling in his chest and a strange pang of something that resembled betrayal. Could Orion really not put aside his thoughtless schemes just once? Was he really worth that little to him? Didn't his opinions matter too? How could Orion bear to grin so playfully after knowingly placating him with lies? Couldn't he tell that he mattered so much to him? 

Yet, even though it hurt, even though Orion's actions were contradicting what he had said last night on the roof and it felt like a stab through the spark, Rule Number One still beckoned him. So he found himself following his dear best friend once again, bracing himself for another convoluted circumstance he'd have to untangle both of them from.

A circumstance which seemed... suspiciously nice? And not as dangerous as he had anticipated? Orion had lead him to a secret vantage point where they had a perfect view of the race from the starting line. He was half expecting the floor to suddenly open up and drop the two of them unceremoniously onto the track, launching them into Orion's original plan of joining the competition against his will.

But as the racers sped off, both miners stayed firmly in place, in the elevated safety of their makeshift exclusive viewing box inside the starting arch. There was no plan. There was no trick. The most important mech in his life trusted him after all. Was willing to compromise on his idealistic, irrational ideas for him. Wanted to prepare a lovely surprise for him. For him. Just for him. 

Orion turned to face him with the most beautiful expression of joy he had ever seen, a glitteringly bright smile that could drive any witnesses to a maddening state of elation. D-16 found himself thinking he would be willing to destroy all else that ever existed just to see that look again. 

"You did all of this for me?" he finally managed, voice shaking slightly. He wasn't just referring to finding this secret spot. 

"No." Orion responded oh-so-gently, understanding what D-16 left unspoken. "I did this for us."

Rule Number One was not getting broken any time soon.

Chapter Text

D-16 had been far too optimistic to expect that to be the end of his best friend's crazy ideas.

They were on the roof again after their most recent shift, having returned to the usual schedule after Chromia claimed her victory in the tournament. And Orion was currently in the process of trying to twist his own words against him. 

"You told me not to 'throw myself into stuff without thinking'", Orion paraphrased, doing a crudely inaccurate yet entirely endearing impression of his companion, "so now I'm telling you. Let's make a plan. We can enter the next Iacon 5000..."

"No. Absolutely not. Absolutely fragging not." D-16 groaned.

"No wait! But listen, this time we'll be prepared! If we train for the race, then we'll definitely have a chance at winning. Trust me, D!" Orion continued eagerly. The way he was being so silly, D-16 wasn't sure if he wanted to pat him on the helm or punch him in the face.

He'd already made his arguments clear the last time this topic was discussed. They didn't have cogs, they weren't built for racing, only for mining. What would 'training for the race' even entail?! And when were they going to find the time to train for something they weren't built for? It was simply out of the question. No amount of practice could help them survive against mechs who had an advantage since the moment they were onlined.

Although... D-16 suddenly realised, if Orion was busy doing whatever exercises he decided would somehow help him prepare for the carnage of the Iacon 5000, then... he wouldn't have time to get himself into another burdensome predicament in the Archives...

And that's how he found himself coming up with an idea almost as ludicrous as one of Orion's own for the first time. He'd go along with this plan for now, just to keep Orion- to keep both of their afts out of trouble. Over time, it would become obvious that they weren't cut out for the race, and then he could hopefully convince his best friend to give up of his own accord and everything would be fine and adhere comfortably to Rule Number One. Hopefully. Definitely not risky at all.

D-16 let out a long ex-vent. "What did you have in mind?"
Orion grinned sheepishly and pulled out a stolen datapad. 'Punch him in the face' was becoming an increasingly enticing proposition.

---
He had to give credit where it was due. D-16 hadn't thought that Orion had it in him to actually organise something rather than improvising on the fly, but they'd actually formed some semblance of a routine. Whenever they had free time, they would sneak the datapad (which he still wasn't entirely sure of the origin of, and decided it would be better for his wellbeing not to ask) onto the roof, and review movements and strategies performed by the Iacon 5000's elite.

Their subsequent attempts at mimicry were usually to much less success, given they lacked... various parts of anatomy that would be necessary for a lot of the manoeuvres. Maybe if they could fly-- slag, was he really considering taking their jetpacks onto the roof, too? Their new team leader would definitely catch on to that. No way. He'd already let his logic circuits be too Orion-ified for a lifetime.

The replacement of Elita-One hadn't been nearly quite as insistent for them to chant her name and praise her accomplishments, so if he was being honest, he couldn't actually remember what she was called. The sentiment probably went both ways, as she seemed far more interested in raw production numbers than learning to address each individual miner by designation. Just keeping to herself and following protocol and never getting emotionally involved. That's what he should be doing too.

But he also had to admit. Something about his little practice scuffles with Orion felt right. It was fun. He enjoyed chasing his best friend around the roof, and learning to swing and kick in ways that would incapacitate his competitors in a hypothetical race.

The potential for violence was thrilling.

He still had zero intention of actually participating in the Iacon 5000, of course, but the adrenaline of fighting set his circuits alight in ways he had never known before. Maybe in another lifetime... he could've been a racer too. Maybe in the world that Orion dreamt of...

"Uhhhh, what are you two doing?" came a unwelcome interruption.

D-16 had just pinned Orion to the floor, in re-enactment of a tussle between Mirage and Chromia that had resulted in the latter taking the lead. They both turned towards the source of the inquiry in hilariously slow motion, like they were caught in an act they didn't know how to begin explaining. Which was true. How could they pass this off as something totally normal for two best friends to be doing on a secluded rooftop?

"Look, I don't know what he did this time, but surely you can work it out without beating our buddy here into the ground?" Jazz continued frantically, making his way towards the now-untangled pair, his recently-acquired replacement leg dragging slightly as he walked. Of course, miners weren't going to be first in line for high quality repairs, and would have to make do with whatever scrap they got. Hopefully some sort of adjustment could be made, because a permanent limp would definitely not bode well for their line of work.

D-16 stood up, and began to attempt to justify himself just as Orion also started talking. "It's not what it looks like--" "That's not what was happening--"

"So you guys weren't rolling around attacking each other because of some kinda disagreement?" Jazz's bewilderment was evident, even with his visor partially obscuring his expression.

"We weren't attacking each other!" Orion hastily defended, bouncing upright from his prior position and placing an arm around D-16, pulling them shoulder-to-shoulder. "In fact, if you ask me, I'd say we're getting along better than ever!" Jazz immediately stopped in his tracks, mouth falling slack.

"Oh. Oh Primus. So that's what... I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-- you two continue now! Pretend I wasn't here!" Jazz stammered, starting to back away, much to the other two miners' confusion. "I didn't realise you two were close like that! My bad!"

Before either of them could clarify that their colleague had jumped from one wildly mistaken conclusion to another, he had already scurried back down towards the berthrooms. Well. That was going to be a fun new rumour to wrangle with during their next shift. Megatronus give him strength.

---
Orion Pax and D-16 were gathering their tools, preparing for their next shift. "Have a good night, you two?" smirked Wheeljack as he passed them. Oh great. Jazz's misunderstanding was already spreading.

He was just friends with Orion, thank you very much! He'd certainly never... definitely never ever had thoughts anywhere down the lines of what was being accused of him. And even if he did (which he didn't, so it shouldn't matter), he would shut down the thoughts immediately. Because they were best friends, nothing less, nothing more. They had each others' backs, that's why they always stuck together. Plus they both admired the strongest Prime, so it was cool to have a friend that shared his interests. And he was the only mech who made his dreary existence meaningful, the gorgeous, brilliant light that he had sworn to defend, the sole beneficiary of his Rule Number One- -

Suddenly, a voice boomed over the intercom, summoning the miners to gather for Sentinel Prime's latest announcement. D-16 immediately snapped out of his previous train of thought, overcome with giddy excitement.

Maybe, this was finally the time when the Matrix of Leadership was recovered, and their great leader would return triumphant, showering rewards for all! He smiled at the screen as the broadcast began, resolutely stamping out the little seeds of mistrust that had begun to weasel their way through his thoughts.

He wasn't foolish like Orion. He knew Sentinel Prime cared about them. Of course he did, he was trying his best every single moment for everyone, wasn't he? He had to trust in the Prime, because if he didn't, what else could he believe in? All of the rules governing his very being stemmed from what Sentinel Prime had decreed. Every rule, that is, except Rule Number One. But he was still too scared to defy everything the rest of the world around him wanted him to believe.

Their beloved ruler always would start his transmissions by re-iterating how crucial the miners were for the prosperity of Cybertron. He always had a way with words, charming mechs far and wide to do his bidding. Surely, everything he said would be in their best interests. And now he was saying...

...He was telling them to cut their breaks and triple Energon production?! With no compensation???

Indignant chatter broke out across the room. That was... he couldn't be serious! They were already worked down to the wire, and Energon sources were dwindling, how could they possibly manage to create something out of the impossible?! Why did they even need so much more out of nowhere? There had to be a reason... surely, Sentinel Prime wouldn't have made such a request if it wasn't reasonable... there had to be a reason, there had to...

Memories flashed through his processor, unbearably vividly.

Of Orion showing him cubes of high-grade Energon he had swiped from an upper-class party, optics filled with fascination as he recounted how freely the nobles mingled without a care in the world.

Of Elita-One's forlorn look of anguish as she was sent down to waste disposal, everything she ever worked for destroyed in an instant, being stripped of all her freedoms.

Of Chromia's celebration speech from her Iacon 5000 victory, raising a toast to her fellow competitors and splashing blue liquid everywhere as if she had infinite Energon to spare.

Of Wheeljack's rations being cut in half as punishment for a particularly explosive accident, his cries of hunger echoing throughout the halls.

Somewhere in his mind, he knew the answer. He knew the answer, but he didn't want to face it.

He didn't want to go against the rules that he lived by.

That he was just a cogless miner who wasn't meant to ask any questions.

That he wasn't meant to see that they were being exploited.

D-16 was dimly aware that he had begun shaking. His servos clenched and unclenched as a silent battle waged within his thoughts. He was so frustrated, he was so frustrated, this was so unfair, he didn't want to be forced to work endless shifts until the upper class was appeased, why would anyone want that, why would anyone deserve that, but the protocol, he had to be responsible, for Orion- -

"We can't work fast enough to meet this quota! We aren't built as strong or efficient as the mechs with cogs!" someone exclaimed from the crowd.

The mechs with cogs.

The mechs with cogs.

They were always going to be better at everything.

Even the very job that he was made for.

Something within D-16 snapped, his optics flashing a deep, burning orange.

"We deserve so much better than this." Orion was saying, colder than a warm-sparked mech like him had any right to be. They did, they really did. They did deserve better than being stuck doing a job that they weren't even properly equipped for, just because of the way they were created.

No false hope or coping mechanism could hold back D-16's anger now. Rage rose up and bubbled fiercely within him, overwriting all of his previous fears, finally releasing him from the grasp of cowardice that kept him clinging onto what he knew deep down wasn't right. What all the mechs above the mines, what Sentinel Prime himself really thought of them, was clear for all to see.

What else in their existence was a sham? Was the Matrix even anywhere near being found? Were they even actually looking for it? Would the cogless even have a place in society if the Energon flow was restored, or would they all be discarded, forgotten, and left for dead?

Screw the blasted protocol. It was time for him to make some new rules.

"MINERS! You heard our Prime! GET TO WORK!" Darkwing boomed, and D-16 sneered grimly, persimmon optics ablaze.

The miner's digits furled into tight fists, just as he had practiced the last few evenings. He turned to face the towering mech that dared consider himself their superior.

And he lunged.

Chapter Text

The punch hit living metal.

Gasps of shock emerged from those who had witnessed such a savage outburst from the normally conscientious D-16. He was known amongst his peers as someone who had always staunchly advocated for staying in line and away from trouble, someone who had been tirelessly dedicated towards wrangling his most treasured companion out of breaches of protocol.

But at this moment, he was someone who had finally reached his breaking point.

"D!" wheezed Orion, "what the frag has gotten into you?! I thought I was supposed to be the 'reckless' one!"

The shorter miner had caught the strike with one servo, tugging his best friend's arm back with the other, shuddering slightly, perhaps out of strain, or worry, or fear, or a mix of them all.

If it was any other moment, D-16 would have picked up on this, examining his cherished friend with overabundant concern, and made some sort of lighthearted jab about how he needed to take better care of himself.

Right now, though, the volatile mech was completely absorbed within the walls of his own racing thoughts, disengaging his logic circuits from any potential consideration of Rule Number One.

Everything he ever believed... everything he was told to work for and be content with.

All of it needed to be destroyed. 

"Let go of me, Pax!" D-16 seethed. "Why are you trying to stop me? You always wanted for us to fight back against this sort of unfairness, this inequality! Well I'm ready now! I want to tear everything down and put us in our rightful place! I'm going to do the right thing! Why are you stopping me!?!"

His expression was scrunched up in aggravation, as if he had perceived Orion's intervention as a form of betrayal, and was lashing out haphazardly under the delusion of self-defense. Whoever didn't completely align with him, stood against him. Was an enemy.

"This is not the way! Wasn't it you who told me that I needed to calm down and think things through if I wanted change? D, come on, snap out of it!" Orion pushed further into his frame, still shaking. Concern dripped from every syllable he spoke, but D-16 wasn't hearing any of it.

His audials vaguely registered that some of their fellow workers nearby had begun whispering about their predicament, whilst others had returned to anxiety-ridden discussion of the Prime's preposterous announcement. None of that mattered. Nothing mattered.

D-16 felt like his emotions were overwhelming him, and he just wanted to let loose and break something. He could only hope that his dearest- - that Orion Pax would wisen up and get out of the way before that something became him.

"They've pushed us far enough. The cogged are far more equipped to handle the torment that they've forced us through than we are. The torment they forced us through for their own comfort. They should be the ones to take our place." D-16 muttered with a crazed expression, as if his words were spilling out the instant he made a new realisation, accompanied by a flurry of unstable laughter, sending discordant vibrations both through his frame and across the heavy limbs that were attempting to keep him in place. 

Then, in an instant, he crushed his maniac visage into a snarl, narrowing his increasingly reddening optics and baring his dentae like a starving predator.

"We should march up and drag them from their cushy lives down to the mines and see how they like it. They deserve this." He felt so fever-hot inside, he could turn liquid Energon to steam with a single touch. Everything was geared to explode out of him. He'd repressed too much, put up with too much, he was done, he was done- - 

"If they want more of the Energon that we've made endless sacrifices for, then THEY CAN MINE IT THEMSELVES!"

As his outcry perforated through the air, he brutally shoved outwards with all his might, knocking the mass of metal that thought it could weigh him down into a sea of onlookers with a resounding clang, forcibly forming into a pitiful pile on the ground.

The commotion around them abruptly came to a standstill as much of the crowd stopped what they were doing to turn and gawk at the tumultuous scene he was responsible for. They could look all they wanted. Let them witness what it was like to break free from everything that held you back.

He was done with being a slave to the rules others had determined on his behalf, that he had blindly internalised so innocently and obediently. Now, he was going to rise up. He was ready for whatever it took to mould this wretched world into one that would give him the rights, the justice, the power that had no real reason not to belong to him.

He was going to seize everything and destroy the rest, even if it ended in his own demise. He didn't care what it might take. He didn't care who might stand in his way. He didn't care who- - 

"D..." Orion mumbled deliriously, disoriented from the impact, chassis noticeably dented.

Orion.

Orion Pax.

He hadn't pushed away some useless piece of scrap that was trying to restrain and control him.

He had senselessly assaulted the only mech who had always believed in him. That he could be something more.

He was the one who promised that they would always have each others' backs, no matter what. That they would work together for a better future. Not just for him, but for them. His Orion.

His Orion, who was now staring blankly at him like a wounded prey, like he was afraid of him. 

That wasn't quite it. No, he was looking at him like he had mutilated himself into a monster.

And he had. 

He had killed off the last good part of himself when he chose to disrespect the only Rule he had decided of his own accord. He broke Rule Number One.

The Rule was broken.

...He was broken.

He always protected Orion Pax from harm, yet he failed to protect him from himself. 

What had he done?!

"Orion... no, no, are you okay? Are you... no!!!" D-16 hurried to his best friend's side, spark aching violently in his chest, threatening to tear him apart at the seams.

"You see..." Orion slurred pathetically, "violence... violence isn't the answer."

D-16 felt like his insides had been wrenched out. Venting heavily, he reached out to haul the dizzy mech back onto his pedes. He did this. He did this. He did this.

Right before he made contact, however, he suddenly found the both of them were hanging far above the ground.

"GRRRRRR, MINERS!! Did I not TELL you to START MINING?" Darkwing's infuriated voice echoed through his audials.

"ARRGH!! What is the MEANING of this! I've had ENOUGH!!!"

D-16 felt the both of them being hauled carelessly through the air, as if they were merely made from dust. He certainly felt just about as worthless right now. He didn't dare look down.

"Let THIS be an example of what happens when you DON'T FOLLOW ORDERS!"

Before D-16 could process what Darkwing just said, he was falling.

Chapter Text

"Oh! Hi there! You're online!" chirped an unfamiliar voice.

"wh-What?" began D-16, processor reeling.

"-- I was worried I'd have to dispose of dead mechs, and welllll, I've had to sort through all sorta things, but it kinda seems a bit dark, don't ya think? Maybeeee? ...You guys are real though, right? Right?..."

Their new companion certainly knew how to use his voice box. It wasn't helping with the thumping pain coursing through every one of his circuits.

"Ah! Of course! I still owe you a proper introduction! I'm B-127... I'm actually working on some nicknames. The one I'm floating right now is, um, Badassatron, which is actually pronounced --" he folded his limbs firmly against himself, rearranging his face into a tight-lipped expression that looked utterly ridiculous, "--BADASSATRONNNN."

"..."

"...where are we, exactly?" D-16 finally managed.

---
B (no, there wasn't a chance in the Thirteen Primes' holy names that he was calling him the stupid moniker he'd invented) had informed them that they had been dumped into the, apparently existent, sub-level 50.

Fifty.

Ten more than anyone had ever been told about.

They were so screwed.

As if that wasn't concerning enough, the entire time they had been down there so far, Orion had remained uncharacteristically silent. He had every right to be. D-16 had... he had... he had completely lost control.

Well, it looked like irrational, spur-of-the-moment actions had gotten them into a situation he really couldn't save them from once and for all. Except this time, it was all his own fault. Oh, the sweet, sweet irony. He wondered if Primus was out there somewhere laughing at the fate He'd assigned him.

He felt that newly familiar sense of burning anger raising alerts throughout his systems again, and was overcome by the urge to punch something. Argh, NO! That couldn't happen. That's how they ended up here in the first place. What happened to the D-16 who knew restraint?

When he had heard the news that finally cemented the exploitation of the cogless in his mind, the fundamental flaw in their society that Orion had patiently been trying to convince him of this entire time, he had gotten far too caught up in the moment and sworn off everything he held true about his existence. He was willing to strip himself of everything except violence and anger, without a second thought as to what sort of hollow husk of a mech that would leave behind.

In a different universe, that shove might not have just left a simple dent. The same action could have pushed Orion off the rooftop, dropping him to his demise without his jetpack to save him. Perhaps in yet another timeline, he had managed to seize a weapon that could blow a helm clean off. Or even, maybe Orion had forced him to race instead of them resolving their disagreement, and his processor had thus been too clouded with hidden resentment for him to stop attacking and realise what he had done...

Even contemplating those possibilities made him feel sick throughout his circuits. Any world without Orion was one without light, without meaning. He had to make sure that this reality wouldn't become one of them.

B-127 was currently introducing them to their new berthmates, a collection of inanimate junk that had vaguely been assembled into mech shaped lumps. Their lifeless forms slumped in the seats B had placed them in, and it horrified D-16 to recall that in the heat of the moment, his most valued Orion had looked just like that.

"B, can you please... um... do you mind if we have a moment? Just me and Orion?"

The yellow mech in question nodded with a solemn expression he couldn't tell was feigned or authentic, before flapping his servos twice in rapid succession and reverting back to responding in his usual, over-energetic way. "Yeah. Yeah! Sure! I'll be riiiiight over here if you need me. Just, chilling out with A-A-Tron and the crew. We'll be chilling big time, so don't take too long or you'll be missing out!" He slid towards 'A-A-tron', then gave two thumbs up and a too-wide dentae-baring grin.

D-16 didn't acknowledge this, instead turning away to address Orion, not knowing quite what to say.

' I think I've ruined everything and I don't know who I am anymore and I don't know what to believe? ' That was, as B would put it, 'kinda dark'. Maybe even more than just 'kinda'. 

' I've realised that you evoke overwhelmingly strong feelings within me that have far more depth and complexity than anyone, including myself, could ever hope to comprehend? ' Where did all of that come from? He'd never say something like that.

' If you hadn't stopped me, at least I would've got a hit on Darkwing's smug face before he chucked us down to the secret torture chamber? ' No, that definitely wouldn't go down well.

His best friend had been willing to make a compromise and not rush into things, he'd been trying so hard to make an effort for them, and yet how did he show his thanks? He'd turned around and done exactly what he had criticised Orion of. He went and tried to act without considering the consequences. Blinded by his stupid emotions.

"Orion... listen. I'm sorry I... I did... all that." He couldn't bring himself to elaborate. "I'm sorry I got us stuck down here."

Finally, finally he lifted his helm and returned his gaze. "Hey, now we're both even." Orion smiled softly, far too precious for the horrible circumstances that surrounded him.

"I hurt you." D-16 whispered hoarsely, feeling like a vent had got caught in his intake. Like he would just accept his fate if said intake decided to suddenly clamp shut on him and extinguish his spark as it went.

"I understand." Orion simply replied.

They sat there in silence again, for somewhere between a blink of an optic and all of eternity.

He vaguely registered B mumbling something unintelligible before returning to the conveyor belt and beginning to toss various misshapen items of unknown purpose into the furnace. It seemed his 'chilling out big time' wasn't as 'big' as previously advertised.

For a while, that was the only movement in the room, the other two sentient occupants merely staring blankly at nothing in particular. The flames crackled against the abandoned material, as if each item was making a final protest to be heard. To prove that it too once existed, and used to serve a purpose, used to mean something.

"The system is unfair," Orion finally piped up, voice uncomfortably monotone, "but turning it upside down on itself is still oppression. It's not true freedom until every single mech is free, whether cogged or not. If we dirty our servos with the same tactics that were used to restrain us, then we become just as horrible as the ones who hold our chains. We have to be better than that."

"Do you really think that they would listen if we just used words?" D-16 laughed bitterly, "That the privileged are gonna just willingly give up their cushy, worry-free utopia to come to the aid of those they see as lesser than trash beneath their pedes? If only we were stronger, we could make them listen. We wouldn't have to be dragged around and thrown into places like this. We could fight back. Like the fighting that we were practicing. You had hoped it'd help us prove we were worthy."

He hadn't done it consciously, but he found his right servo was balled into a fist again. Orion reached over and brushed it gently, and he loosened his grip, interlocking their digits. He noticed his internal temperature had begun to creep up, but he didn't comment on it. He was comfortable with this position.

"That- - that's not what I meant. I thought that doing well in the race would show we were capable of more than mining. The brutality just happens to be a component, but it's not the main point, you get me?"

Orion grasped their servos more firmly together, and D-16 let out a small ex-vent, but not from pain. He wasn't sure what it was that he was feeling, though that wasn't important right now. Orion was.

"We don't know if they will listen if we don't try, D."

D-16 shook his head affectionately. "Not everyone is as patient and accepting as you. If we get out of here-"

"When we get out of here." Orion corrected. B-127 let out a sad little noise and pouted slightly at the implication that he was poor company. "All of us, because no mech deserves to be isolated like this." Upon hearing Orion's addition, the smallest mech placed a servo on his chest and smiled appreciatively.

"-When we get out of here," D-16 continued, "we would immediately get sent back down if we tried to just talk things out. If we act even slightly out of line with what the cogged mechs demand of us? They barely even need to lift a digit to overpower us and toss us out of their way. Even Sentinel Prime, who always acted all kind and understanding, turned around and treated us as disposable the moment his precious nobles wanted more Energon to squander. Whilst us who were doing all the work fought for the dregs."

Orion looked down pensively, as if he was reviewing memories of the tireless cycles they spent grinding their way through the mines. The room fell into quiet again for a klik. All the while, D-16's optics were fixated on the mech who was holding his servo like they were always meant to fit together. Orion usually was so lively, but even deep in thought with a neutral expression, he still looked brighter and warmer than the fire that was sizzling at the end of the room. He vowed to never be the one to extinguish that light. Never again.

"Then we won't 'just talk'." Orion finally decided. "We'll gather allies. Gather weapons. We'll bring our demands in numbers, and then if, and only if, our protests still aren't heard, then we'll strike. If we can convince all the miners to join together, then Sentinel Prime will be forced to make a choice. I don't want any mech to starve, and I would hope he doesn't, either."

"The guards may be strong, but they can't stop all of us at once," D-16 realised, "we are the ones who fuel all of Cybertron. We hold the bargaining chip."

Orion nodded. "Megatronus wasn't the most powerful Prime just because he had the strongest attacks. He knew when to use his words and when to resort to violence. That balance was his power."

A balance of strategies. Orion's relentlessly optimistic pacifism, and D-16's newfound hunger for battle. They could follow in the footsteps of their hero, together. They didn't have to just scavenge for scraps of recognition nor rain down fury aimlessly. They could plan as one, and start a proper revolution.

"We'll face this like Megatronus," he decided, patting the decal on his shoulder with his free servo, still not letting go of Orion. He wasn't sure he ever wanted to let go.

And Orion wasn't letting go of him. "Let's do this, my Megatron."

"Hey, no fair!" B-127 suddenly cried out. The two of them had been so engrossed in each other, they'd nearly forgotten that he was also there.

"Why does he get to have a cool new nickname, but neither of you wanna call me BADASSATRON?!"

Chapter Text

D-16 had lost track of how long they had been down in sub-level 50.

Stupid Primus-damned Darkwing. Fragging Darkwing. There could've been so many ways that his little... outburst could've been handled, but really? All the way down into eternal seclusion from society just because of one little scuffle, when he had followed protocol so diligently for every single other moment of his existence? Seriously?! He had promised Orion to only use violence within reason, but he felt it would be a hundred percent justified if he were to rip that bastard's helm clean off his frame, mount it on a pole, set it alight, and parade it through the mines.

Maybe he was getting just a little bit ahead of himself there.

B-127 had summoned him and Orion to the conveyor belt. A large scattering of bric-a-brac had just rained down from a chute in the ceiling, gradually inching their way towards destruction. The gratingly cheery mech was humming some jumbled mess of a tune, arms outstretched behind him like wings, rocking back and forth on his pedes in a steady rhythm as he anticipated the arrival of his new companions. He wondered if the ostensible overabundance of energy was a byproduct of being cooped up with limited prospects for far too long, or if the bright yellow nuisance came like that out of the proverbial box.

Well, they were stuck down there forever now, with this... really nice guy, so he supposed his only option was to entertain whatever was going on. Rolling his optics, D-16 sauntered his way across the pointlessly short distance between where he and Orion had been sat, and where the onrushing hodgepodge of stuff rolled forth.

"I'm glad you two aren't breaking up anymore!" B-127 stated happily, reaching out to either side of him and grabbing them both by the shoulders.

D-16 immediately let out a series of choking noises, jolting forwards in surprise. He slapped his chest with his right servo in an attempt to re-regulate his venting.

Huh?! Did B think... was this like that situation with Jazz again? They were only ever friends, he wouldn't dare consider anything more. It was certainly only the nearby fireplace that was making him feel nauseatingly warm. Besides, his closest friend had better options than to get romantic ideas about him.

"W-whoa there! D and I are the tightest best pals you could ever imagine. Nothing in all of Cybertron could possibly break up our friendship."

See? He'd never think about him in that way. That was expected and not even a little disappointing at all. Only a little while ago, he had regarded him so beautifully and given him an affectionate nickname that set his spark aflutter. What a great display of them being best pals. 

Orion had gently pried the servo off of his shoulder and reached out one of his own, an open invitation for a fistbump.

"Exactly," D-16 heard himself saying as he accepted the request, digits feeling achingly lonely after the oh-too-brief connection, "no matter what, homeslice." He had NEVER called ANYONE 'homeslice' before. As soon as the words left his mouth, he internally cringed. What did that even mean?! What had gotten into him now?!?

"Uhhhhhh, okay. So you guys really aren't seeing- - I mean, I haven't spoken to another living being since like, forever, but it seems kinda obvious, like do you really? Are you guys just toning it down for my sake or something? Cause I seriously don't mind. I think it's pretty sweet. I don't actually have any wheels - whole 'not having a cog' thing and all, hey, you guys have been there and done that so you get it - but I could be a third one! That's a figure of speech. Figure that one out..." B-127 was rambling nonsense again. The assorted fragments on the conveyor belt suddenly looked incredibly fascinating.

"I. Have no idea. What you're talking about." Orion said, sounding bizarrely stilted. The light from the furnace reflected off his face, making it appear a touch redder than usual.

B-127 blinked oddly several times, his expression slightly contorting. Eventually, he threw both his servos in the air deflatedly. "Aw dang it, I've forgotten how to wink again. But okay. Sure. If you say so."

The silence that followed was even more awkward than that time Orion got caught trying to hide ill-gotten data chips from the Archives by shoving them in his mouth. That was a really fun one to explain their way out of.

"Alright then!" the original occupant of the area eventually piped up, clapping his servos and rubbing them together, "So I'm guessing since you're here and all, you're gonna need your very own tutorial on how to be a boss at waste disposal. And lucky for you, you've got the expert here talking at ya! I'd like to consider myself a professional, cause I've been doing this for soooooo long, so if you've got any questions-"

Both of the other mechs immediately took B up on the offer. "How long is 'so long'?" "Wait, waste disposal?"

"Yeah! I can't actually say exactly how long I've been at this, kinda lost count after like, the gazillion-teenth cycle, but the job really helps keep a bot sane, doesn't it, EP-508?"

Without even waiting for a reply from the heap of trinkets that had no capacity to respond in the first place, he continued: "Look, tell ya what, I'm gonna just jump straight into the demo, cause you two seem like eager learners. I think. I never actually got any training, so I wouldn't know. But I'm really good at this, I swear! Here, check this out!" With that, he fished out one of the objects from the pile, furrowing his brow-ridges in mock-scrutiny as he held it right up to his optics for a moment, before quickly turning away and tossing it into the fire behind him in one swift motion.

"See? Just take each item, see if it's worth anything, and then if not, well, the garbage gets burned and that's that! Fun stuff, isn't it? Ha-ha, so much fun...!!" B looked at them expectantly with an artificially-wide grin, the dim red glow emitted by the incinerator making him appear even more unhinged. Meanwhile, a sparkling crystal that definitely looked like it was worth something fell into the roaring flames. 

"But the floor that Elita-One was sent to is where trash is handled... why are you having to do it here?" Orion muttered, confused. That was a very good point. Why would some of what got disposed get sent out on trains, whilst others would simply get melted down? If this was just a subset of Iacon's refuse, then wouldn't all the valuables already have been filtered out? Unless...

"They're not sorting trash on Elita's floor. That's gotta be it. I don't know what they've got her actually doing, but they must be sending something else out. It's the only way this would make sense." D-16 grimly surmised.

"Wait, then what would she be sorting if it isn't trash?" Orion asked, unconvinced.

"I just said I didn't know!" D-16 fumed.

"Maybe it's deaaaad mechsssss." B-127 chimed unhelpfully. Orion winced. Clearly he too wasn't a fan of the idea that their former supervisor was now in the field of discarding corpses thanks to his own little misdemeanour. Because the trauma of handling the offlined was totally a reasonable thing to burden someone with in response to a different bot stepping out of line. D-16 mentally noted a new Rule: ' All protocol written by the Cybertronian Elite is a total load of slag '. That seemed like a good fit for Rule Number Two.

An unspoken agreement settled in the room. Regardless of what was the real purpose of the other 'waste management' sub-level was, one thing was clear. Sentinel Prime had to have been lying to them.

"Ugh, I wanna kill someone." D-16 vented, narrowing his amber optics. He was only partially joking.

"D!" Orion exclaimed, elbowing him playfully. Not expecting the contact, he stumbled slightly, backing into one of the statues that B called his friend. The sculpture let out a crackling, electric hiss in complaint.

Wait, what?

"C'mon Steve, he didn't mean it!" B-127 made his way over to the object and gave it a reassuring rub on the head, provoking an audial-splittingly shrill shriek of static. "Don't worry about it guys, Steve's always like this. Poor guy's just a lil sensitive."

All three of them were huddled around 'Steve' now. D-16 wasn't all that invested, to be frank, but it's not like there was anything more interesting going on. Meanwhile, his dearest friend was exuding innocent curiosity. Orion was always so cute- - he meant that in a best buds way, obviously. He was absolutely not still dwelling on what B had implied a few kliks ago.

"How did you make him tal- - eek!!" As Orion started to ask his question, 'Steve' abruptly screamed yet another burst of garbled noise. Startled, the blue-and-red mech flailed his arms outwards... striking against the scrap metal components, and knocking what once acted as the figure's head onto the ground.

"STEEEEEEVE!!! NOOOOOOOOO!" B-127 cried out.

That was one way for the query to be answered. The bare inner workings of the makeshift helm were revealed to all. If one could refer to a shell as 'workings'. There really wasn't much to report on at all. B snatched it off the ground and began frantically attempting to lodge it back into place. "STAY WITH ME, STEVE!! DEEP VENTS FOR ME! Does anyone know a medic?!"

Even Orion wasn't paying any attention to the antics. Following his gaze, D-16 realised why.

There was a loose component on the floor, and it was glowing. A chip. He would've recognised that shape anywhere, after having to dislodge several of them from between dentae. Orion reached to pick it up, and he considered whether it would be appropriate to quip a reminder that data chips weren't edible, but decided it really wasn't the right mood in the room for that, with B-127 still wailing like he had been kicked in the cog-hole and all.

The chip was set down on the table, and then everyone froze.

A message had begun playing. A distress signal.

From the Great Quintesson War.

Maybe whatever B had was contagious. Because he sure felt like he was going crazy.

Chapter Text

Two devoted companions - and an inescapable annoyance - were currently cramped in a stuffy little underground chamber, pondering a giant blue orb.

Alpha Trion. Orion often regaled exorbitant tales of the Prime's legendary battles alongside his twelve now-fallen compatriots. He would excitedly present recordings and photographs that were 'temporarily borrowed' from the Archives when they enjoyed the relative privacy of the roof enveloped in night. Almost every mech had some awareness of their origins, of the ancient leaders who laid down their lives for the longevity of their kind, but it was only thanks to this that he immediately recognised the face and voice as the artifact on the table had flickered into motion. 

This was huge. The beacon, as it turned out, had contained a set of coordinates. A direct path to where the last known bearer of the Matrix of Leadership perished.

Though, it would be nothing short of irresponsible if they were to try to act on this information. What were they even meant to do? Despite his prior... ambitions, all he really had going for him was an eons-long mining record and some B-rate attempts at mimicking racers who actually knew how to be ruthless. No offence to B. Or well... the guy was a personality, alright... but they had essentially just shown up uninvited into his berthroom, so he had to be somewhat cordial.

"Sentinel Prime would love you if you brought him this info!" Orion prodded, wearing an approximation of the devious grin that was no stranger to him. He still had that intangible spice in his being that D-16 both admired and despised, but something about the twisting turns of events as of late had dulled him, somewhat, and it wasn't just the ash that lingered in the air. D-16 optics settled on the dip that now lay below his cog-hole, and he grimaced, as if another indent had formed to match on his own chassis.

"Yeah, right. He'd love the info, but frag knows if he'd really still care about me or you. Sentinel's been screwing us over for Primus knows how long! We saw the truth when he tried to push us to exhaustion, and we still don't know what's the deal with the waste trains and here." As if to punctuate his point, he grabbed a random item off the conveyor belt and hurled it into the furnace with a clink and a hiss.

"You tell him D! What he said! I actually don't know what's going on or what you're talking about or anything, but it sounds all intelligent-y so BADASSATRON is backing ya up, my friend! I can't even remember what Sentinel Prime looks like anymore!!! Not since he sent me down here for all my great work!! He..." B-127 suddenly trailed off, his shoulders slumping as the energetic demeanour he normally carried seemed to whoosh out of him all at once, "he doesn't care about us, does he..."

Seeing the boundlessly sprightly mech become all deflated was incredibly jarring. D-16 realised he hated this even more than when B was being annoying. How dare the injustices of society kill the voice of a starry-opticed bot? Only he was supposed to be the one to get this guy to shut up!!

"Hey now..." Orion reassured, expression soft yet bringing an unmistakably cheeky undertone, "I just said that he'd like it if you did. Never told you to actually do it."

Oh, Orion. What an irritating, glorious, terrible, lovable mech he was.

The renegade miner picked the chip off the table, ending the projection as he fastened it into a compartment in his wrist. He then directed his attention to the box of salvage that had been deemed valuable enough to avoid the fate of the flames, sifting through analytically, until he emerged victorious with a hammer in his servo.

"We have this, we have materials, and we have sort of a forge. What do you say we make ourselves some upgrades?"

---
Trying to turn discarded loose metal into weapons was like trying to turn Orion Pax into someone afraid of taking risks. D-16 was getting increasingly, unequivocally frustrated.

"This is hopeless, Pax. We've been at this for ages, and all we've done is turn garbage into ultra garbage." He held up what was barely recognisable as intended to be a sword, but flopped back down on itself like the laws of physics had gone on extended leave.

"I think this is pretty fun, actually," B-127 interjected, "look, I've made a little hat, for Steve! Here ya go buddy, to make up for someone MURDERING you earlier!! Not. Cool."

The culprit in question averted his gaze, fiddling with his blue servos awkwardly. His best friend, meanwhile, was having none of it. "You can't kill something that never lived," muttered D-16.

"I've gotta give it to you, this... really isn't working as great as I hoped it would be. If only we could, say, channel the aura of Solus Prime or something..." Orion ex-vented. Even though the whole operation was his idea to begin with, it was still paining to see the mech who had called D-16 'his Megatron' look so distraught. The downward tilt of his mouth just didn't look right on the radiant bot's precious faceplate, and the taller ex-miner found himself scowling at how much that pissed him off.

"Ooh! Ooh! Solus Prime, I know her!" B beamed, "She's that cool mythical lady who was super badass with forging weapons! There was tons of stuff about her in the Archives. So badass... like BADASSATRON..."

"Don't tell me you also used to sneak into there." The only responsible being in the room groaned. Though, he supposed there was some strange comfort in knowing that his Orion wasn't alone in being repeatedly tossed out of places he shouldn't be in.

"Well, I mean kinda? I was just told to keep the dust off stuff, they gave me this really fluffy stick thing? I named it Carly, by the way. Nice gal, she had a sharp wit with it. Also foreign, like Steve, though she came first. But yeah, sometimes I'd sneak a peek at the documents. It all just seemed so shiny and interesting! I think Megatronus seemed pretty cool too, since you might wanna know," B winked with both optics, "though that didn't last very long, I got sent down somewhere else, and then down somewhere else... well, you know what ended up happening to me. I maybe sorta let this guy who was stealing stuff get away a couple times? Say, he looked a lil bit like you..."

Orion stared like his circuits were rewiring themselves. Then, all of a sudden, he grabbed B by the shoulders, sounding like his vocaliser had crumpled in on itself.

"I could've worked at the Archives?!"

A resounding, deep rumble abruptly emerged from above them, and all three helms turned towards the torrent of refuse that had rained down from the ceiling. This time, the chute had spat out quite a substantial heap, containing all sorts of useless junk, and... weaponry. Broken remnants of weaponry, but it was still far more workable than the random pieces of metal they had been trying to use previously.

D-16 picked up a shield that had a sizable hole blown through it, and grabbed a shard of material that seemed to be large enough to cover the gap. His companions both gave looks of approval.

This could work.

They could build their means of fighting back, one piece of scrap at a time.

---
The ragtag crew had managed to somewhat patch together blades and old armour plating that had probably been damaged during some scuffle with guards and since replaced. It was a bit grim to imagine that their original owners could well be dead, so they reassured themselves with the fact that the metal came in an assortment of colours, and they hadn't managed to assemble a complete monochrome set. The modifications weren't perfect by any means, and had needed a fair bit of bashing to attach properly to their smaller cogless frames, but they at least could provide the trio with some form of self defense when the time came for their escape. Orion had even managed to recover a jetpack that appeared to have had its thrusters blown out, but actually just had some debris caught inside its mechanisms and was otherwise fully functional.

"I don't think that thing can carry all three of us, the engine's just gonna give." D-16 deadpanned, holding the pack up against the firelight.

After a short burst of unsatisfying recharge, the consensus was to begin pushing forwards... or well, rather, upwards. They had partaken in heated discussion as to what they were going to do with their newfound discoveries. The situation wasn't as dire as he was inclined to believe, as B had pointed out that there technically was a way out of their otherwise sealed-tight prison. Up the fragging disposal unit. Disgusting. Though still preferable to a fate of eternal solitude.

If they could just rally enough numbers that were sympathetic to their cause - and disgruntled sentiment was already beginning to build amongst the miners, last he saw - then they had a chance to really shake the foundations of the regime that subjugated them for far too long.

Or even better, they could use the miraculous clue they had uncovered and restore the Energon flow to Cybertron all on their own... maybe that was a bit of a pipe dream, but then the authority and control would really be in their servos. Perhaps that could actually be possible, with help from the allies that they would hopefully gather. Though the more realistic course of action was to simply use the proof they had as an extra bargaining chip during the inevitable conflict.

He couldn't believe he was thinking this, but he was starting to understand what Orion was getting at with the Iacon 5000. If the cogless, who were slandered as mindless labourers with no potential to do anything else, became the heroes who succeeded where even their so-called leader had failed, then there was no grounds under which anyone could ever question them again. And if anyone did, they would be waiting. Waiting and ready to fight to the death. For justice.

Orion seemed to have spotted something, walking over to EP-508 and rattling him viciously. An assortment of loose wires and sharp-ended rods fell out, which were promptly gathered in his servos.

"WHYYYYYYYY-Y-YYYY," B sobbed, "why are you so mean?! All of us are friends!"

The former innards of B-127's inanimate buddy had been rearranged by the resourceful assailant into some sort of glove apparatus, such that the large pins would protrude out from one's palm. "See? Now we can just climb up and keep our grip on the walls."

"For fifty sub-levels?!" the sensible one said, incredulous.

"Nooo, just until we reach the floors that others actually know exist." the pretty one clarified.

"Oh-my-Primus, we're going on an adventure! Ha-ha! I'm totally so excited and definitely not terrified within an inch of my life. Which has gotten a bajillion times more interesting since you guys showed up. So wherever you're going, I'll follow." the noisy one yapped. D-16 had tuned him out after the second word, and he had already given an extra word's worth of leniency.

"So let's go back over the plan. We're gonna climb up the garbage chute, and if we somehow don't get crushed to death by trash, we're then going to try to convince any bots we can that actually, everything about their lives is a lie! And that they should drop whatever they're doing to join our revolution against the mech everyone has idolised for the entire time I've been online, and reveal that we've somehow managed to come across a 50-cycle-old crucial lead for the sacred ancient artifact that's the key to pretty much everything? And hope that the junk we've managed to cobble together here will somewhat defend us when the slaggers in charge inevitably try to kill us for all this?" The grey mech's brow-ridges were raised so high, they might manage to make their own way onto the surface. 

His two silly compatriots looked at each other, and then nodded at him. "Yep, sounds about right." "Yeah!!! Let's do it!! What could possibly go wrong?!"

D-16 took several deep vents, expression settling in determination. "This is THE WORST idea we have EVER come up with."

He attached the jetpack onto his back. "I'm in."

Chapter Text

"Are we nearly there yet?" B-127's sing-song voice echoed down the panels of the waste disposal chute. A tell-tale rumble came in response, and the three escapees immediately threw themselves flat against the sides, allowing the emerging refuse to drop safely to the space that previously detained them below.

"Yikes, I think that one nicked something off my back. Again." Orion complained, muffled by the makeshift mouthplate he had salvaged and crammed between the ridges of his helm. No response came, and he resumed his ascent.

Their plan was truly easier said than done. They were probably about nine sub-levels up by now, but there was still no exit in sight. B and Orion had been clawing their way up the walls, whilst D-16 hovered ahead using the jetpack, just far up enough that his two companions didn't get hit with a face full of exhaust.

"Let's go, team! We're so close, I can sense it! We've gotta be so close, gotta believe, gotta keep things going, gotta all stay friends... Hey, Energon cube anybody? I made sure to grab our rations before we set off." The former trash-sorter seemed to be in good spirits again. D-16 floated down to meet his level, and the yellow mech tossed the food with his free servo right into his mouth. For some reason, he thought he heard Orion scoff.

"Yippee! Nothing better than the magic of friendship! Tell me we're gonna stay together forever?" B grinned.

Despite his gratitude for the fuel, D-16 was running out of patience. "Consider the magic of my pede up your aft. Keep moving before I make you."

The annoying little creature obliged, but also began humming a rendition of "99 Bottles of Oil On The Wall". If he was a crueler guy, he'd throw him all the way back down to the bottom of the shaft.

He had never paid much attention to how tall each sub-level was, but now, having to inch up past them one at a time really put things into perspective. Primus, they were deep underground. So deep, he almost expected to see the deity's spark blazing along next to him. Was He really omniscient and omnipotent as many mechs seemed to believe? If so, why did He allow His children to suffer so tragically? Why was he chosen to be created without a cog? What was the fate of the cogless during the age of the Thirteen Primes?

D-16 swiftly decided that hanging multiple levels in the air with the potential to fall to one's certain demise was probably one of the worst times to be committing blasphemy, and quickly shelved those thoughts.

They kept climbing. The seemingly endless void was getting brighter now.

---
Against all odds, they successfully made it through all the way up, and emerged above the very floor where everyone except them was under the impression waste management occurred. Well, the rubbish from all over did descend into the actual sorting facility at this point, so the description was still technically true to some degree.

From their vantage point above the workers loading the trains, D-16 spotted a very familiar flash of pink. Evidently, so did Orion.

"D! Look! It's Elita-One! Let's get down there!" He had already stuck a leg out, hanging over the platform as if he was going to jump down, before two warm servos grabbed him by the waist and reeled him back in.

"Pax! Easy! What did I tell you about throwing yourself into situations without thinking! I... uhh..."

Hit with sudden clarity as to the intimate position he was now holding the other mech, D-16 trailed off, turning away as he let go and reset his vocaliser. On the other side of him, he locked optics with B-127, who was just grinning at him wordlessly. The grey ex-miner shot back a look that screamed 'ugh, frag off ', which was met with that strange way B liked to blink when he wanted to imply something.

A new train arrived right beneath them, providing the perfect cover for them to drop down behind. The idea was simple. They were just going to blend in well enough until they could locate the easiest way back to the mines, and then, under the protection of the night, they'd sneak back into the berthrooms and wake up only those who seemed likely to sympathise with their cause, and work together from there.

They linked their arms together with D-16 in the middle, who fired up the jetpack, so they could lower themselves down relatively gently. He was very much not thinking about how nice Orion's arm felt hooked against his own, or possible other excuses for them to do this again in future. Damned irrelevant distracting thoughts clogging up his processor.

"Okay. On three. One... two..."

They leapt into the air in unison with surprising grace, their fall being cushioned by the upwards thrust whilst they descended slowly. There was the underlying fear that someone would be overcome with some inexplicable urge to look up and catch them in the act, but they were running on adrenaline and two loose wires of common sense and couldn't afford to waver.

"Wow, this wasn't as bad as I expected!" chirped B.

As if on cue, the engine of the jetpack coughed and gave out, and they all immediately smacked straight into the floor with a horrendously loud crash.

Oh, no.

The sound of pedes approaching was getting increasingly loud as they frantically tried to untangle themselves and come up with an excuse as to why they were crumpled in a heap instead of doing whatever everyone did around here. Worse still, they had somehow managed to land right next to an open doorway of the train instead of safely using it as cover as they had intended. It would be a miracle if they weren't captured now by the administration.

No, they had to seize this chance. There was no looking back. No way in his life was he going to let anyone toss him back down into being caged. Snarling, he drew the blade that he had crudely affixed to his arm, and tilted his helm up...

...only to come face-to-face with no-one but his former team leader.

Well then. It seemed like Orion might get his wish of attempting to convince Elita-One after all. Though he wouldn't hesitate to slash her to pieces if she stood in their way, former connection or not- - no, no, his logic circuits were running away from him again. He was perfectly calm.

"Sending me to sort out another mess. They'd better consider bumping me up a rank- -" Elita-One was muttering to herself, before her optics widened in recognition.

"Orion Pax? D-16?! What... why do you look like that?!" she asked incredulously, mouth agape at the way they had bashed soot-covered discarded armour plating onto their chests and limbs in enough colours to make a medic feel ill, bulking themselves up for protection at the expense of making them look rather silly. A few pieces had been dislodged by the impact when they hit the ground, lying scattered around like a modern art exhibit. D-16 looked down at himself in shame. He'd kind of forgotten about that when they'd decided the plan was 'blend in'.

"No, bigger questions first," the femme continued, "what are you two doing here?"

"I know this may seem hard to believe, but-" Orion began, tugging off his mouthpiece to make himself easier to hear, but Elita quickly interjected.

"No excuses. I'm aware that Darkwing transferred you to another department, and it wasn't this one. Yes, the news made it down, even all this way. And yes, I am happy you idiots got your sweet retribution. So let me ask you again. What are you two doing here?"

"Escaping from sub-level 50. Hi there, by the way." B-127 answered unhelpfully. Elita-One looked like she was going to burst into flames.
"Fifty? This is the bottom floor! Don't mock me! I- - wait, who even are you?"

"He's the guy who was stuck in sub-level 50." Orion added, even more unhelpfully.

"Elita-One, everything sorted there? How are you doing with the load?" someone shouted from the distance. The group found themselves getting shoved into the carriage behind them as Elita yelped back an affirmative response.

"You lot need to leave. You've ruined my life enough already. I don't want to see any of you ever again." She looked at the mech that she had never seen before prior to barely two kliks ago. "Sorry. Now be GONE before I come back with the last box, or there's gonna be consequences. New word for your dictionary."

With that, she turned to finish her task, before pausing in the doorway.
"Oh, and congratulations you two. That news made it down too. Next time, spend more effort on following protocol than feeling up each other's interface panels and other mechs wouldn't have to pick up your slag."

"See, that's what I was saying! Even she thinks you're f-mmmmph!" D-16 shoved a fist in B-127's mouth before he could make things even worse, his internal fans whirring at breakneck speed. Within a nanoklik, he yelped as the yellow mech's dentae chomped onto his servo and quickly retracted it.

"T-time for a, uh, new plan then, I suppose?" Orion said shakily, trying to recover his bearings. He must have been made so uncomfortable by this persisting misinterpretation of their relationship. More pressing issues notwithstanding, D-16 vowed to resolve this conflict sooner rather than later. He couldn't bear to see how on-edge his best friend (and just that, and just that!) got when the topic was brought up.

"New plan. New plan, yeah." he agreed dumbly, mentally berating himself for sounding like none of his inner mechanisms were connected. "How many of these mechs do you think we could take on?" 

"We are not fighting anybody on this floor! They're victims of being cogless, just like us. Bad D. No stabbing." Orion reminded teasingly, trailing his digits up against the retracted blade attached to D-16's arm. He found he wanted to strangle him. In more ways than one. He wasn't going to dwell on what he had just discovered about himself.

"Trust me," the aqua-opticed stunner was saying, and D-16 snapped right back to reality. Oh no. Whenever his best friend said that with that tone, he wasn't going to be in for an easy time. "It's time to let them know they're on our side."

Putting on a show of false bravado, Orion stepped out with his servos outstretched, setting his vocaliser to a lower octave in an attempt to sound more authoritative. "Good mechs of the waste disposal department! I have come with hope on how to free yourselves from your predicament! This hierarchy of oppression on those without cogs is actually built upon lie- AUGH!!"

The motivational speaker's aspirations were promptly cut short by a swift kick under the cog-hole, knocking him down back onto the carriage floor. Right where the metal was already dented. That had got to hurt.

Not retreating her pede, Elita-One instead opted to wedge her heel further down, pressing in the weight of both her and the container she carried, as if to accentuate her displeasure. "I told you lot to get gone! Not cause a scene! Is this really what I get for being nice to you? I knew I should've just handed you in, could've helped me bag that promotion. What do you have to say for yourselves?" 

B-127 began to argue that shouting at then stepping on someone wasn't really considered 'being nice' in the majority of contexts, but before he could finish his sentence, he was interrupted by the loud smack of the door behind them snapping shut.

Hang on a second.

The door. To the waste transporter. Had just snapped shut. With all of them still on it.

Without exchanging a word, they all immediately dashed towards the newly sealed exit, attempting to pry it back open, but to no avail.

"Doesn't this thing have an emergency release button?" D-16 exclaimed.

Elita-One slammed her fist against something just out of view, and the entrance began to inch open again, but quickly shuttered back closed moments later, prompting her to scream out in frustration. "It's jammed! Come onnnnnnn!"

She darted ahead in pursuit of the next available doorway, but the transit had begun its journey upwards, and the movement jolted her back, sliding the cargo around and knocking her over like a bowling pin.

The three other bots winced in unison. B-127 was attempting to stumble in her direction, optics wide in horror. "No, please, I'm scared... I mean uh, ahem. Hang in there! BADASSATRON the fearless will come to the rescue!" He only managed to make it several steps before slipping flat onto his face and sliding pathetically down to the end of the carriage.

"No, no, no no no no! I am not letting this happen." Elita strained, "We are turning this train back around! I just need to get..."

Another barrage of payload came hurtling down across the floor, ramming straight into the already immobile femme, pummelling her harshly into a set of crates behind, her helm rocking forcefully, clanging against the surfaces behind and in front of her in turn.

Unable to withstand the whiplash, her optics darkened as her weak cogless frame fell limp and her consciousness went temporarily offline.

D-16 had decided on his new Rule Number Three. No matter what sort of plan they were to come up with, they also needed to plan for it going totally, horribly wrong.

Chapter Text

The train had been ascending for several kliks now. Inside, four bots were pinned to the end of a carriage by a cluster of surprisingly heavy crates.

"What is in these things?" D-16 complained as he pushed the box in front of him far enough for him to climb out on top of it. Once he was free, he reached out for Orion without hesitation, hauling the smaller mech out of the bottleneck and dropping him gently beside him.

The trajectory of the transit had finally begun to flatten somewhat, and they were grateful for the increased ease of movement. They had relocated the still-incapacitated Elita-One into a more comfortable position, carefully seating her down against the side of the compartment with her legs stretched out in front of the pile of cargo.

Or rather, D-16 had moved her. Every time Orion had tried to approach, he had received an instinctive punch between the audials. And Elita was definitely unconscious. They'd checked. He wondered what she had gone through since they last met for her to have that much fight in her, or whether she really hated her ex-subordinate that much.

Thinking about it, the area had been conspicuously quiet for a while now. The carriage was poorly illuminated, so amongst the sea of yellowish brown boxes, B-127 almost blended in, if not for the specks of colour added by the extra plating attached to him. He wasn't showing any signs of wanting to move, even as Orion made his way over to him. "B? Badassatron? Are you okay?"

Upon hearing his chosen nickname being used, the little bot perked up slightly, but quickly settled back into looking uncharacteristically sullen. Orion reached a servo out to him, and only then did he make any effort to get up. "Yeah... yeah, I'm all good. It's me, Badassatron, the cool guy, the... something. Going on a fun quest with my bestest of many friends. Definitely not the only real friends I've ever had. I'm not... I...." B was clearly trying to force a smile, but his lower lip wobbled far too much.

D-16 felt rather out of his depth. He wasn't quite sure how to approach this situation. Back in the mines, if one of his coworkers was going through a... crisis, he would give them space to sort themselves out. After all, it wasn't really his business to get tangled up with. Not unless it involved Orion, of course.

There was nowhere to go here, though, and it'd be right bizarre if he just stood there in a corner watching his... friend? His accomplice? That guy?... watching B-127 break down into pieces like he'd been uprooted from everything he ever knew into an unfamiliar horror. Which. Was exactly what had happened actually.

He knew all too well the feeling of being forcefully thrown into a total paradigm shift, given how they had ended up here to begin with. Finally clicking into motion, he awkwardly shuffled up to where Orion was comforting the sobbing mech, and stiffly added his servo to B's shaking back, giving it a few pats in a hopefully reassuring manner. "There, there?" he attempted, lips stretched into a line as he slid his optics to the side to lock gaze with Orion, who returned a look that screamed 'seriously, is that the best you've got?'.

"Whatever it is, B, you can tell us. We've always got your back, haven't we, D?"

Hearing their catchphrase being used for someone else hit D-16 like a lash against his spark. Orion was meant to always have his back. His! He couldn't just go and dish out his devotion to someone else without asking him first! He opened his mouth to refute the statement, but upon reevaluating the current circumstances they were in, swallowed the bulk of his contempt for now and merely nodded.

His favourite mech was trying to be nice, and he didn't need to be unreasonable because he was jealous or anything. Which he wasn't, and had no reason to be. Orion saw him and B-127 the same way. His friends.

The distraught bot had calmed slightly, faceplate stained with streaks of optical fluid. He tilted his head back to look up at his two closest friends, again pulling his expression into an unsteady smile.

"I-I'm sorry for being such a downer guys. You probably think I'm totally lame now." B-127 ex-vented softly, "I really just don't wanna lose you guys, my best friends. It's been so long, and everything suddenly went so fast, and I'm still kinda struggling about everything I heard you talk about the lying and the Matrix and stuff, but I still came along anyways, cause I... cause I can't..."

The pitiable bot was choking on his words again, optics blurry with wetness. "I... need us all to be friends. And stay alive. And be together and not leave me and be friends forever, please. This could've gone so bad. This already has gone so bad! I always seem to mess up anything I do, I always just wanted to help, I never meant for anyone to get hurt, and now it's happening again... I think we might've killed someone, and I don't know how to bring back anyone that isn't Steve, and now we're trapped, and now..."

D-16 broke contact to check up on Elita-One. "I can still hear her fans going. She's gonna be fine."

"Don't you see? It's not as bad as it seems." said a determined yet gentle voice, "You just need to never give up hope, and we'll be sure to find a way out of any situation, no matter how dire. We'll work together to change things for the better. You're part of the dream team now, B. You're not a screwup, you're our friend. If you wanna stick with us, we're gonna stick with you." His Orion was always so kind and optimistic. B-127 seemed now to be more at ease.

"You said you were confused about what's we're doing." the other ex-miner found himself adding, "Well, what's going on is that we're gonna fight for the rights of every Cybertronian. To tear down the broken system that made mechs like you feel needlessly incompetent. To give everyone without a cog the ability to choose a path where we can be happy. If being here with us is that path for you, then... we'll try our best to keep that happiness going." He returned a genuine smile this time, and Orion looked in total awe that those empowering words had come from his closest friend. To be entirely frank, D-16 was surprised by himself, too, but he felt in his spark that he truly stood by what he had said.

Out of nowhere, something had clamped around his chassis so tightly he felt all his vents being squeezed out of him. His small yellow friend had pulled him in for an enthusiastic hug, perhaps just a bit too enthusiastic.

"Right, uh, that's... okay. Thanks for that. You can let go anytime now. Maybe sooner would be good." D-16 felt rigid with the arms holding him in place. He pondered on the ethicality of punching out a mech he had just consoled.

Just at the edge of his peripheral vision, he noticed that Elita-One had begun to stir. Her systems must have reset and recognised that minimal damage had actually been done.

"Eugh... my head... I cant believe the doors and the antigravity system malfunctioned, this is ridiculous! Did the maintenance crew not follow protocol?! They should let me have a go at that job." Leave it to Elita to complain about ranks before literally anything else.

"How long was I out? Don't tell me it's been more than 5 kliks." the groggy pink bot groaned.

"Alright, then I guess I won't." Orion quipped.

Everyone in the carriage was forced to cover their audials as Elita let out a processor-shattering scream.

"Are. You. Stupid. Dumb question. The fact that we're still on the waste transit speaks for itself. Do any of you have any idea of where we are? First you get me demoted, and now you want to really finish me off? Is that it?!" she seethed as she got back up on her pedes, looking ready to lunge at any one of them at the snap of a digit.

"Our plans could have eventually lead us to the surface, depending on how things went." D-16 tried to explain, "it's just been... pushed forward a bit. Due to... circumstances." He shot a pointed look at the blue-and-red mech in question, who shrugged guiltily.

"What... plans?" Elita questioned, voice overflowing with suspicion.

"It's as I was saying earlier," Orion volunteered, "Sentinel Prime has been lying to us, and taking advantage of cogless bots like you and I. The only way that we can right these wrongs is if we all stand united as one and confront this injustice. With the support of waste disposal and the miners, we will have the numbers to propose a new deal that-"

"You've got to be kidding- - I'm just going to stop you there. Where's your proof? And how has this got anything to do with the surface? The incredibly dangerous and potentially fatal surface?" She had stalked right up to him, pointing a commanding digit directly between his optics.

"We've got the proof right here!" B-127 piped up, giving one of the containers a resounding slap. "I spent basically forever and an extra ages on top of that sorting trash for real, so whatever is in these boxes is, like, not that. So whatcha say we pop open one of these bad boys and see what's inside?"

"Uh... irradiated metal? What do you want to prove to me with toxic garbage? I loaded this train myself. Not even thirty solar-cycles in waste management and I am already topping the leaderboards for productivity. Are you doubting me right now?" the former squad leader retorted, "That's not even our biggest worry at the moment. Hello? Death trap on the surface? We're still headed straight in? Anyone going to use some common sense around here?" 

Right at that moment, they heard something slam against the roof. Something heavy.

"Don't make me say 'I told you so'." Elita sneered.

Chapter Text

The carriage was overcome with a silent panic.

Elita-One looked like she wanted to scream again, but knew better than to alert whatever surface monster was lurking outside. The bots of Iacon were dreadfully uninformed of anything that may dwell above, so even D-16, who would be willing to fight like his life depended on it, wasn't going to risk coming face to face with some potentially overwhelmingly strong entity that they knew nothing of.

It surely couldn't be the Quintessons, right? They had been told the beasts hadn't returned within Cybertron's orbit for many, many cycles.

Though... that's just what Sentinel had said. The deceiver who wasn't worthy of being called a Prime. He put shame to the ones who had laid down their lives for him, honourable names such as Megatronus, Solus or Alchemist. The Thirteen wouldn't have enslaved the less fortunate for the benefit of the elite, and that's why his only idol was one of them. He'd never again sing the praises of the smug fragger who sat all happily in a pretentious golden palace pretending to run Iacon whilst others did all the dirty work. Not since he'd stopped being wilfully ignorant. Just the thought of it made his circuits burn.

Screw that guy. D-16 could go on for eons about what he now thought of the mech he used to borderline worship, but right now, given his current predicament, he would probably do better to focus on himself.

After a mad scramble, all of them had ended up returning to much the same sort of position that they had been trapped in earlier, wedged between the mystery containers.

"We need to try our best to stay hidden. I know it's much to ask, but please don't do anything stupid." Elita whispered urgently.

"Be at the ready to defend yourselves. If whatever monstrosity that is does find us, we'll strike back twice as hard. No mercy. It's us or it." D-16 added, readying the makeshift sword hammered onto his arm and patting the extra armour that was still hideously, but mostly effectively, attached over his chest. B-127 cracked his neck and clenched his fists in determination, channeling an aura that was both goofy and serious simultaneously.

Despite seeming a bit hesitant at the call to arms, Orion still nodded, and went to offer Elita the heavily dented shield that he had been carrying, but she only responded by raising a digit to shush him.

D-16 realised it had been a while since he had explicitly thought about Rule Number One. Orion was always going to be the impulsive, mischievous mech that pulled at his spark and challenged his patience, but he was also resourceful, willing to negotiate and remained relentlessly hopeful no matter what. He wasn't a liability for D-16 to keep in check, he was strong in his own way. They'd been through so much together, Megatron and his precious optimist.

They weren't going to go down now. If they were found and attacked, there would be a bitter battle to the end, and he would put everything on the line to emerge victorious. For himself and Orion, even for B-127, for all the suffering they'd endured, for their cause.

Sounds were coming from above, suppressed by the thick layer of metal shielding them from the unfamiliar beyond. D-16 strained his audials and focused intensely, trying to see if anything helpful could be discerned from the muffled noises. He might as well make some attempt to figure out any clues for survival before the thing broke in and tried to kill them.

It sounded rather distorted, but it almost seemed like...

...those were bots talking!?!

"Door mechanisms: overridden."

With that, the ceiling opened, giving way to three ominous silhouettes backdropped by... the sky. They were seeing the actual sky. Looking into actual space. That was insane to think about. Furthermore, who were these mechs? What were they doing on the perilous surface?!

"Remember, we just take the rations we need this time, and no more! We don't need that false Prime getting any ideas that we're still kicking. Not until we want him to. Got it?" snapped an imposing voice as the bots dropped through the opening, landing gracefully just an arm's length or two from where D-16 was watching them intensely. 

The other two acknowledged the command wordlessly, stacking two crates each and lifting them with ease. Barely concealed behind them, the quartet of stowaways huddled close anxiously.

The looters were clearly cogged, easily eclipsing every one of them in size. It would be tough to overpower them all. Fortunately, it seemed their main focus was the cargo, and they were probably set to leave with their stolen boxes any moment now.

All of a sudden, one of the mechs snapped his helm towards them, single optic flaring dangerously. "You have been unwise in attempting to ambush us."

An involuntary chill ran through D-16's circuits, but it was quickly burned up by a rush of adrenaline, and he leapt out, leading with his bladed servo. Meanwhile, Elita had lifted one of the containers above her head with all her might, slamming it down where the purple assailant stood with a fierce battle cry.

Her attack was interrupted by a winged bot appearing in a flash and punching the box away with a single servo, sending it flying all the way to the end of the carriage and crushing itself against the wall, contents forced out and spilling everywhere. "You have been unwise for trying to steal our garbage- - ...Huh?! This isn't- - It can't be..." Elita's shout trailed off into a shocked whisper.

D-16 struck the attacker, aiming to slice his neck, but only managed a nick that the cogged mech didn't even react to before he was grabbed by the arm and tossed aside, collapsing on the floor amongst the blue specks that had scattered from the damaged crate.

"This is... energon?!" Orion exclaimed in disbelief, bringing one of the cubes from the ground to his mouth to verify. "What? But why--"

Before he could finish the sentence, the remaining invader had pinned him to the ground, fastening his arms together with some sort of reinforced cabling. "Resistance inadvisable. You will comply."

B-127 attempted to throw himself at the towering blue mech that was holding Orion down, but the sturdy powerhouse barely budged. Letting out a feral yelp, B resorted to grabbing one of the offender's servos and biting down vigorously. Thanks to the distraction, Orion managed to deal a swift kick and roll himself free from being pushed into the floor.

"Hang on! This is a misunderstanding!!" he panted, but it was no use. Some sort of shot rang out deafeningly across the room. Thankfully, however, Elita had picked up Orion's discarded shield and deflected the brunt of the damage.

"He's right. And for the record, all of this is their fault! I'm not associated with these troublemakers!" she exclaimed, before aiming a punch right at the shooter's lone eye.

"Who are you? What do you want?" D-16 questioned as he charged at who he assumed to be the leader of the group once again. The dark-helmed mech merely laughed in response. The next thing he knew, he was somehow on the ground again and something was being aimed point-blank between his optics. He saw flashes of red, a hateful, searing red, and then he blacked out.

---
"Commander Starscream, the hostages are now all online and active. Do let me know if you have any further instructions."

That was the first thing D-16 heard as his consciousness returned to him. Strangely, he didn't feel in any pain, in fact, he felt fuller than he had ever been, like all of his circuits were energised to levels he didn't know possible. Looking to his right, he realised that there was a drip feed of liquid energon leading straight into the protoform of his arm, and he was currently chained by his outstretched limbs to some sort of horizontal recharge berth inside an unfamiliar area, as were Elita and his friends.

The precise nature of their surroundings was hard to discern - they were most likely hidden away somewhere indoors, from how dimly lit everything was, but the place looked like an unpleasant amalgamation of both organic matter and intentional engineering. So for the moment, D-16 decided he wouldn't think too much on it, and mentally applied the nearest familiar description, considering himself as being trapped inside some sort of cave.

Thundering steps approached, and the winged mech from earlier came into view, flanked by the same entourage.

"You're dismissed." Starscream, as he was now known to be, ordered, waving a servo nonchalantly, and the medic bowed suavely before turning and strutting out of the room. He then turned to address the helpless captives. "And as for you..."

D-16 bared his dentae at the known aggressor, attempting to stand up, but he was held back by the chains, and subsequently harshly shoved flat again with minimal effort from the one-opticed bot. Looking down, he saw that all the extra plating that they had assembled in sub-level 50 had been stripped clean off of him, leaving his chassis uncomfortably bare once more, but also, to his surprise, sporting possibly the shiniest streak-free finish he had ever had since he was first brought online.

"And. As. For. You." the commander snarled at the defiant display, before continuing, "You don't have transformation cogs." 

"Mmmmmmm-mmm-mmmmph?" B-127 said, and six helms rotated in his direction.

"Uh... why is he gagged?" Elita questioned.

"He wouldn't stop talking!" complained the violet bot.

"Even when he was unconscious?" 

"Especially when he was unconscious!" the bot snapped, stamping a pede hard enough that D-16 felt his berth shake, "This conversation is not worth my energy. Let us return to the matter of importance."

"Did Sentinel do this to you?" Starscream asked, a fearsome glint in his crimson optics.

"Sentinel Prime is our ruler, our protector! We were just made cogless, we're designed to be workers." Elita explained.

"Ha! That insolent brat can call himself a Prime all he wants, but he will never be one! You have been foolish to trust him." scoffed the leader. "Not one bot on Cybertron was ever 'just made cogless'. Those unsightly holes of yours are not natural."

B-127 attempted to respond, but he had no means of prying the soldered gag from his faceplate, with his arms being held restricted on either side of him and all. Instead, Orion took it upon himself to answer.

"That's not right - not that I mean to challenge esteemed warriors such as yourselves, truly, such an honour - but we really were. Every miner was, that's how Sentinel's ruling class decided we were apparently incapable of doing anything more than menial labour, even if we're actually just as worthy as everyone else." His words were fuelled with passion, and he looked ever more beautiful now that his frame had been uncovered, cleaned and un-dented, even though he was currently bound in place. Especially that he was boun- - no, that was most certainly not an appropriate place for D-16's processor to run off to right now.

"Scanning electrical impulses. He speaks: the truth." the boxy masked mech that had held Orion down on the train confirmed in a booming monotone.

"That just means he believes what he says. Any brainwashed sack of wires would. Who knows what sort of slag the little glitch down there has been indoctrinating these newbuilds with." Starscream huffed.

"We know that Sentinel has been manipulating us." D-16 responded darkly, "We have been forced to act subservient to the cogged upper class for our entire existence and expected never to challenge their authority, just for the way we were- - the way we thought we were made. And now you're telling even what we knew about our creation was a sham?!" His voice increased in volume as he spoke, eventually breaking into a vicious snarl that made even the fearsome commander flinch.

Starscream paced towards him menacingly, regarding him with smug interest. "Here's what's going to happen." the confident mech stated firmly, "you will come with me and I will show you the truth, and in return, you are going to tell me everything you know about how Iacon is now and what Sentinel is up to. Are we clear?" He spat out the name with utter disdain, as if even the mere mention was corroding his glossa.

Orion and B nodded enthusiastically, rattling their restraints in a cacophony of jingles. Elita emitted a far sterner response, merely lifting her head to stare mistrustingly at the ones who had detained her. "I'll make my own judgement on what to do once I see what you've got to show."

The bulky purple mech returned the cold look, somehow managing to appear as if he was narrowing his singular optic. "Your most logical course of action would be to follow our directions, lest you find yourselves in a far less favourable situation than the accommodating treatment you have been allowed thus far."

Understanding the thinly veiled threat, Elita begrudgingly shrank back down against the berth. D-16 felt as if he understood her anger, but also felt the bulk of his hatred directing its way towards the one that the powerful trio had referred to as a 'false Prime'. He found himself desperately needing to know what they had to reveal.

"Knock Out?" Starscream yelled towards the exit, and the red medic from earlier sauntered back in with a casual flair, as if his superior's authoritative barks didn't even faze him in the slightest. "Make sure this lot can walk. I'm too respectable and important to be carrying around weaklings, so if they can't, they're getting dragged." The latter statement was clearly directed towards the hostages. 

"Oh, but of course, oh humble Commander Starscream." grinned the doctor, "It's a shame though, the traitor's little pets would look oh so pretty grovelling at your pedes." D-16 could hear Orion gulp loudly and wished he could just reach over to grasp his servo and reassure his darlin- uh, his best friend that he happened to care for very much more than he should. Ugh, now was not the time to get his processor all riled up with feelings! Not when they were at the mercy of strangers that could easily pummel them into a pulp.

"You can grovel at my pedes if you don't hurry up and get this done." snapped the commander. In response, Knock Out merely winked as he began to disconnect the energon feeds. "Thanks for the offer, but I already do that with someone else. Maybe you could consider looking into your own sort of arrangement. Any of the fresh metal tickle your fancy?" B-127 let out a muffled yelp as the stylish bot ran a servo scandalously down the side of his frame, Starscream's optics following the movement before he rolled them and turned away. "You're lucky you're useful, or I would've done away with you cycles ago." he stated, clearly irritated.

They had been released back into upright positions, only their wrists being tied together now, using some tight loops of cabling. Not proper energy cuffs, D-16 noted. These bots must have been short on resources.

Oh, right.

They were still on the surface.

They were on the surface. At least he had no reason to believe otherwise - they may not be able to see the sky anymore, but there was something about the cavern they were in that was unlike anything he had seen before, and he used to be a miner before he became a leader of a revolution. Miners know their caves.

Now that he was back on his pedes, he had a better view of the room that served as the medical bay. No, this definitely wasn't actually a cave. It seemed to be some form of... wreckage? A mishmash of steel and stone slammed into one, almost as if there had been a structure that crashed down and was swallowed up by the planet itself.

A fallen Quintesson warship, he realised with discomfort.

He decided he would prefer to just think of this place as a cave after all. It was... less morbid, and a concept he was better at navigating.

"Mmmmmmph! Mm mm mmm!" B-127 muttered excitedly, stretching out his legs and spinning around on his heels before falling on his aft and being lifted back up by an amused Knock Out.

"More than just walking, this one. Never say I'm not a star at my job." the clinician purred. 

"Shockwave, remove the yellow one's muzzle.", Starscream sighed.

"The silencer on the miniscule mech is non-negotiable, Commander. He is either going to bite our audials off with his words, or quite literally bite Soundwave's servo. Once again."

All optics were on Shockwave as he suddenly found himself being punted halfway across the room into a rocky wall. A loose scattering of pebbles and dust bounced off his geometric chassis.

"I will remove the yellow one's muzzle." he agreed.

The metal plate was precisely lasered away using the apparatus that formed Shockwave's left arm, revealing a dazzlingly bright beam plastered across B's face.

"No. Way. It's you, it's really you!" the joyous bot cheered, "You're here! You're alive! You're legends!"

"Hang on, what? You know these brutes? Who even are these guys then?" Elita asked, completely baffled. 

"Who else?" B exclaimed. "It's the one, the only. The Cybertronian High Guard!!"

Chapter Text

Starscream, Shockwave and Soundwave had lead the group out of the medical bay and around the corner to a different part of the 'cave'. During their rather short journey, the goofy yet inquisitive B-127 and the boundlessly adorable Orion had been speaking over each other in an enthusiastic barrage of questions for the High Guard they appeared not only to be aware of, but possessed a deep admiration for. They continued all the way, even as their energetic chatter made it nigh impossible to discern the individual queries, no less give an actual response. Two heavy slabs that appeared as if they once formed a powered automatic door were pushed apart by Shockwave, with a force that suggested he was displeased with its state of disrepair. Elita-One and D-16 exchanged a knowing look as they were shoved towards the resultant opening, which seemed to serve as the side entrance to a makeshift auditorium.

The area that they had been lead to was already populated by a moderate crowd. Blazing torches lined the perimeter, one end of the room stretching out into the endless night, and at the other end lay a monumentally magnificent throne, the sort that looked like it was built for a legend beyond villain or hero. Starscream settled into it comfortably, and gestured for his guests to sit on the ground, leaving a small stretch of distance between them, amongst patches of green things he had no idea how to explain. Those surely had to be some sort of outlandish Surface organic.

The two bots with 'Wave' in their names took standing positions on either side of their commander, seeming not to pay particular attention to the hostages, but D-16 knew they would be ready to jump into action if any of them tried anything that was deemed unsatisfactory. He ground his wrists into his restraints in frustration, gritting his dentae. He was very much not a fan of being held captive, but he desperately needed answers to the questions that had loomed over his very existence.

A moderately-sized device with various ports and a large lens was rolled in, bearing a strange resemblance of sorts to Steve, which B-127 was quick to comment on in a stage-whisper to his friends. "Now what's that thing?" Elita hissed, "This better not be a trap."

"Relax, it's just one of Shockwave's little inventions. They don't hurt you... well actually, most of them do, quite badly, even, but not this one. This just creates a projection of a bot's chosen memories, so we can find out anything we want to know." Starscream twirled a data cable between his servos, before pulling it taut menacingly. "Though if the bot isn't willing to share, they might need a bit of additional convincing."

The quartet of cogless bots squirmed uncomfortably, provoking a cackling laugh from the leader of their captors, and the other guards behind them quickly joined in. "Pathetic little things. Don't you start crying on me, us High Guard are mechs of honour, unlike others who deceived their way into power. You'll get your little history class first."

With that, Starscream plugged one end of the cable into the machine, and D-16 realised the other end was connected inside one of the mech's servos. He laid back on his throne, briefly shutting his optics in concentration, and then a hologram of a scene burst out in the middle of the room.

D-16 couldn't help but gasp. There he was, in all his glory. Megatronus Prime himself. Him, and all the rest of the Thirteen Primes, stood right there in a circle, as if they had joined them in this very room in the metal. His violet plating shimmered against streaks of gold, coming together in a image of the perfect Cybertronian. This was everything that he looked up to, everything he wanted to be.

"So, this secret strategy meeting Sentinel proposed is going ahead, then? Even though it may only be an exchange of information between allies, the location is rather... discreet. How about the High Guard accompany you-" A disembodied voice spoke, before being rudely interrupted. It must have been Starscream, since the memory was being broadcasted from his perspective. The vision moved to direct itself at the one who had interjected, an all-too-familiar cobalt blue mech sat at a small round table in the centre of the circle, though something looked off about him, in some way that was difficult to put a digit on. It was unmistakably him, but the way he was configured didn't look quite right.

"Oh, High Guard! You've fought so hard recently, total superstars! Why don't you take this one off, have a little well-deserved break, mm?" Sentinel flashed a charismatic smile, like he was posing for an advertising billboard. The guards stepped forward to protest, but one raised palm from Zeta Prime stopped them in their tracks.

"Your concerns are valid, Commander, however, it would be unwise to raise more suspicion amongst the Quintessons than necessary. So long as we remain vigilant at all times, there is little risk to this excursion." the Matrix bearer declared, "The intel our trusted aide promises to provide will create a priceless opportunity. Once we know where the Quintesson commanders are due to meet, we shall then strike with haste, and turn the tides of this war once and for all with their elimination. You may rest assured that all shall go smoothly, and that this meeting holds the key to Cybertron emerging victorious."

Despite the confident speech from their supreme ruler, the High Guard still struggled to seem at ease.

"But, my Prime, the Quintessons have eyes all over the planet. The risks of travelling unprotected are too high, please reconsider..." Starscream whimpered. Across from him, the advisor to the Primes almost seemed amused, like there was a scheming glint in his optics that couldn't be trusted.

"Surely you don't have that little faith in the Thirteen Primes' ability to defend themselves. My my, Starscream, where is your loyalty?" Sentinel smirked.

"Our decision is final." added Vector Prime calmly, and Liege Maximo was also seen giving a nod. With that, the High Guard all bowed down in respect and defeat, and the scene in the projection shifted.

"My mechs and I felt something wasn't right about this little gathering in the middle of nowhere that Sentinel had convinced our Primes to join, regardless of how promising a lead he claimed to have, and how dangerous it would be for him to simply reveal the details directly." the Starscream in the real world explained, "Therefore, I gathered a small group of the toughest battle-ready guards and sent an order for us to arrive shortly after the meeting was due to start, just in case the Quintessons caught wind of our scheme to plot an ambush and decided to stage a counter-ambush of their own."

"Soundwave was suspicious first. Starscream's plan: mine." the visored guard on the left clarified, voice and face both leaking zero emotion, yet somehow seeming rather smug.

"Yeah, yeah. Remind me again, which one of us is the strongest here? Which one of us is the leader?" the mech on the throne snapped back. Soundwave didn't reply, so the hologramatic show resumed.

Around six or seven members of the Guard were hovering in their alternate modes above a stretch of cobbled stone splattered with emerald organic mass and golden specks of sand. Above them, a horde of eldritch, tentacled things was approaching, caught in a barrage of lasers and gunfire. Quintessons, D-16 realised with horror. He let out an involuntary shudder. It sure was fortunate those weren't what had found them on the train, given how even the formidable warriors before them seemed to be having a hard time keeping the slimy green monstrosities at bay.

"The cave! They're going for the Primes!" exclaimed one of their allies, a blue and dark-grey fighter jet. "But there's too many, it's too hard to approach!"

"Who are we? We're the most powerful defenders of all of Cybertron!" Starscream rallied in response. "No Quintesson will ever make us weak. Come on, let's tear them to shreds and really make them feel it!"

With that, the battle waged on, and a path was cleared towards the ominous opening past which the Thirteen were under attack. The entrance to the cave looked almost as vicious as the alien assailants, bearing resemblance to a beast that was baring its teeth.

"Backup squadrons en-route," Soundwave confirmed, as the group braced themselves for entry. However, as they peered into the area where the private tactical meeting should have been, they instead saw something that stopped them in their tracks.

"No, no, evacuate, evacuate, stand down! We need to go, we need to go!" Starscream suddenly exclaimed, completely overtaken by panic and dread. The vision on display explained exactly why this was.

It had been a massacre. All across the floor, the frames of some of the once nigh-indestructible Primes lay lifeless. The ones who still stood were struggling immensely, appearing on the verge of succumbing to their injuries despite their best efforts.

"Cybertron was meant to unite against our enemies, not join them! You won't get away with this betrayal!" yelled Solus Prime as she shakily threw a spear at the traitor, who simply dodged it. The energon-stained sinner pointed a lethal blade down at the neck of the formerly mighty Megatronus Prime, now helplessly collapsed at his pedes.

"Oh really?" Sentinel chuckled without remorse. "Cause to me, it looks like I already have."

Starscream turned away before the blow could connect and he ran. He turned and he flew and he flew and he flew and the projection became a garbled blur before blinking into nothingness. The version of him sat in front of them was ex-venting strongly, seemingly paralysed for a moment before jolting forward to tear the cable out of the broadcasting machine.

"You." D-16 growled, voice deep.

"That was... I can't believe it, I knew something was off." Orion asserted, looking like he was going to be sick.

D-16's every circuit was screaming, as if wicked claws were digging right into his spark, razor sharp.

"You! You left them to DIE! YOU LEFT US TO DIE!!!" he thundered, breaking his arms free with a resounding snap. His enraged optics and fading Megatronus decal reflected the redness of the burning torches as he charged slowly ahead with thudding, determined steps, paying no mind to the click of weapons locking in on him from all directions.

"Come closer if you dare," the so-called leader of the High Guard seethed, "do you really think you can hit me?"

"You call yourselves mechs of honour? Of power?" D-16 continued, undeterred, "Where was this honour and power when you ran? Why didn't you fight? Everything that's happened to us, to me, to B, to Orion- - The way that Cybertron is now is YOUR FAULT!"

"What did you think we could have done?" the still-seated mech laughed bitterly, "They took down Megatronus Prime. The strongest Prime in combat of them all, as you seem to be aware, wearing his face on your shoulder. Not only him, but countless more of our elders. We had to ensure our survival so we could strike back eventually and get our revenge."

"You have no right to speak of Megatronus, cowards." At this point, the two were facing each other optic-to-optic, helm-to-helm. From the corner of his peripheral vision, he saw Starscream raise a servo, telling the rest of the Guard not to interfere.

"H-he's right, uh, your most honourable and wonderful Commander!" came a trembling voice. B-127? What was he doing? Why was he of all mechs trying to get involved? This was not the time for him to start running his blasted mouth! "You all were friends, and friends should stand by each other no matter what. We should believe in each other, e-even if we're scared. My friends believed in me, that's why I'm here, and you guys are so cool, I mean the High Guard, in the real! But- -"

"You snarky little insect!" Starscream screeched, pushing the grey mech before him aside roughly as he stood up, imposing shadow enveloping the entire area as he stalked forwards, "You know nothing of what we've done for Cybertron! How much we stood by our Thirteen Primes! What we've been planning to exact payback on that deceiver who dared betray our home! You do not get to speak out against us. Not if you want to keep using your precious little voice box you seem to love so much."

B-127 shivered as a servo brushed against his neck, trying to shuffle backwards in his seated position on the uneven floor. "Whoa, whoa, please, uh, this is getting a little cosy!!" The grip around the area where his voice box was tightened, and he let out a strangled cough. "P-plea-s-e..."

Someone let out a roar so vicious it echoed again and again throughout the cave walls. A silver mass of rage had launched his entire self against the towering leader with complete disregard for anything else at all, slamming his entire weight into his servos that he had clamped tight against Starscream's neck, knocking the commander onto the ground and forcing him to let go of his friend.

"The false Prime couldn't dream to be more powerful than Megatronus. This is what he had. Determination. To seize what he wanted! TO RISE UP!"

He felt the small cut he had made earlier during their scuffle on the transport, and dug his digits in violently, ripping the wound open and brutally dislodging some cables that were once connected to a voice box, energon from broken tubing splurting onto him.

How did the bastard like being on the receiving end of his threat? How dare he?!

"ENOUGH!" the mech beneath him squawked, grabbing his much-smaller neck in turn and tossing him to the side with ease.

"You... you're really quite something, aren't you?" said Starscream. It was hard to tell what tone he was attempting, as his vocals sounded all glitched up. D-16 became acutely aware that the only reason he had managed such an assault on the significantly larger, cogged, war veteran was because Starscream had let him.

"Commander, allow me t-" Shockwave began, stepping forwards with his arm-laser still aimed with perfect precision, but he was intercepted by his masked associate reaching out a blocking arm.

"All that counts is the strength of one bot over another." Soundwave stated, as if he was quoting someone.

"And this little bot seems to have a strong will indeed." the commander himself continued with an involuntary electric shriek, making his way back to his throne. "Once we find a fix to your little cog problem, you will become an invaluable asset to our cause."

His broken voice would have been laughable in any circumstance, completely chewing through any aura of intimidation he tried to emit, but the fact that he had voluntarily allowed that to happen to him gave D-16 second thoughts on what sort of mech he was dealing with. A responsible leader? Probably not. Definitely the unhinged sort.

Though Starscream wasn't the only one who had acted unhinged. D-16... he'd done it again, hadn't he? Within his persistent state of anger seeped newly formed tendrils of dread, as he looked at his energon-stained digits with a conflicted mind. Was Starscream really going to actually hurt B-127, when they'd all intentionally been left unharmed the whole time they'd been in the High Guard's care? If he hadn't interfered, would he have just laughed and let go after giving them a little scare? No, he did the right thing this time, didn't he? Violence was okay if it was justified!

Orion stood up and approached in his direction, but ignored him in favour of addressing the three mechs at the front. He must've also dismantled his restraints at some point during the commotion, as he lifted his left arm and revealed the chip tucked away in a hidden compartment. The beacon sprung back to life, revealing the neon globe and its markings to all.

"We came with our own cause. I would like to make a plea to you to align our goals together." he announced with a strange calmness, slight underlying vibrations only betraying his actual terror and uncertainty to a trained audial. "We found the coordinates of where Zeta Prime left the Matrix of Leadership behind."

"The Matrix is gone, you fool! Don't you see how dry it is outside?" jeered someone from the crowd.

"Yeah, the energon would still be flowing out there if the Matrix still existed. That son-of-a-glitch Sentinel must've destroyed it when he, uh, put to rest our dear Zeta Prime." another guard declared.

Orion looked distressed by these statements, but still opted to continue with his original point. "No, I refuse to believe that. The Matrix is our hope for existence when the mines inevitably run out. We need to find it, and I know where it is. Just, give me a chance! We can do this, together! Who's with me?" he implored.

The entire room was completely silent for a moment, but then began to fill with snickers of disbelief. "Who does he think he is? He doesn't even have a cog!" "That weakling really thinks he knows where the Matrix is? The False Prime got rid of it to stay in the Quintessons' good books!"

"Looks like nobody's with you, not even your little friends." Knock Out, who must've slipped into the room sometime after the broadcast, chuckled from beside where Elita-One was still sat. D-16 turned to glare at him incredulously, but as he processed his thoughts, his expression shifted to something more tumultuous. Of course he'd stand with Orion, right? He always had his back!

But... as spineless as they were, the High Guard were there during Sentinel's betrayal, and had good reason to believe the Matrix was gone. The cause both of them shared had better chances if they could harness the strength in numbers of the Guard, rather than chasing something that no longer existed. Surely his altruistic best friend would choose the realistic liberation of Cybertron over the power of a hypothetical relic, right?

"We wanted to gather any evidence we could of Sentinel's manipulation and rally the disadvantaged masses to our side." Orion tried again, "To demand better conditions and equal rights for bots without cogs, to have those who were blessed with privileged lives open their optics to the truth and work alongside us, not oppressing us."

"The idea of a unified Cybertron is a myth," Starscream scoffed. "You fancy a little revolution, do you? How do you think your conniving dictator down there is going to answer to that? His forces will just plow all of you down and frame the whole fiasco in his favour, and that's not even with his Quintesson backing in play. This is exactly the reason why we have only been striking from the shadows so far. We need to wait for the right opportunity to take him down once and for all. Hit him when he's weak. He was the one who first chose to use dirty tricks."

"Every day, mechs are starving." Elita-One spoke up sullenly, having been pensively quiet until now. She tugged one of her servos free from their binding and clenched it into a fist at her chest. "I used to turn a blind eye to it all, I accepted that suffering was just part of existence, and I... all I could do was ensure that I personally avoided that suffering as much as possible, by just focusing on my own tasks, never getting attached to anything except my job. Working my way up, following protocol to the letter. Every day, mechs are starving, are dying from exhaustion, because of the inaction of others. I can't believe I've been complacent all this time. Acting as a cog in the system, even though I never had one. Or now, you were saying that originally, we did. I don't know what to believe!"

The gathering of bots behind them broke into an uproar. "Down with the cog thief!" some of them were chanting, "Down with the tyrant! Down with the false Prime!"

"No. No way. Nobody can be that evil. Not even Sentinel... right?" B-127 shuddered, "He surely couldn't have just... plucked them out of us before we came online?!"

"You have a hole for a T-Cog, do you not?" Starscream insisted, voice crackling and squeaking, "I'm sure you can surmise that something must have used to fill it."

D-16 looked down at the gaping void in his chest, running a digit alongside the teethed lining and tensing at the contact. None of the miners ever paid their cog-holes too much attention. It always had been an aching reminder of what they could never become. A true Transformer. Now, however... things had changed. Now, this cavity was a symbol of deception, of everything having been torn from them. Not just the physical cog, but their opportunities, their quality of life, their freedom. If that damned indent was filled with anything right now... it was hatred. Sentinel had to pay.

"If that is the case, if that's true- - or even if it isn't - please, you have to help us." Orion begged, pleading his case with such sincere desperation that it would make any spark ache. "This is just more reason for strong mechs, legendary mechs like you to stand by us! Together, we could find the Matrix, we can locate and restore the stolen cogs and form our own army, and then there would be no reason in all of Cybertron why we wouldn't be able to make a stand and bargain Sentinel to stand down."

The room erupted into vociferous chatter and laughter. "A bargain!" Starscream mocked, "I much prefer your friend here's way of doing things. A ruthless attack gets the job done. I like that spirit." With that, ruby optics were boring right into his own vermilion.

D-16 didn't know quite what to say. He should be grateful for the praise, yet he... he found he himself didn't 'like that spirit' very much. Not outside the heat of the moment. Not when he knew how his most treasured Orion would look at him afterwards. A fragment from a past conversation pierced through his memories. "If we dirty our servos with the same tactics that were used to restrain us, then we become just as horrible as the ones who hold our chains. We have to be better than that."

He looked down at his right servo, very much dirtied with a coating of dried energon. Maybe some mechs just couldn't be better. Maybe he was already too far gone. Too hellbent on fighting fire with fire, and burning down everything in his way.

There were clearly others that subscribed to this philosophy. He could leave it all behind. Leave his past, leave his friends, leave behind compromising.

Leave behind... his love. His Rule Number One.

All he felt now came from a place of hate, but all he used to do came from a place of love. He couldn't deny the realisation any longer.

He had always stuck by Orion no matter what because he loved him.

Everything hurt. Everything just hurt.

A second pair of optics fixed onto him, shining bluer than freshly harvested energon, filled deep with sadness and something else hard to explain.

"I really did use to look up to you." his object of affections said bitterly, not making it clear who he was addressing, "but it seems the two of you complement each other perfectly."

Leaving those words hanging in the air, he retracted the panel on his arm and stormed towards the crowd, who made no effort in stopping him from leaving via the wide open exit at the back.

"Let him go", Starscream said, "the frail thing won't survive two nanokilks out there in the wilderness. If he isn't going to work with us, he's not our problem."

Elita snapped onto her pedes and sprinted after her former subordinate, zero hesitation. "I'm not going to stand aside again and let another mech die." she asserted as she ran off.

B-127 looked torn and in total disarray, his servos still bound behind him, but ultimately, he chose to stay in place.

"I have decided to make you a generous offer." Starscream told the remaining cogless bots, though mainly addressing the silver mech who was evidently fighting through a state of anguish, "Work with us to get revenge on Sentinel together, and we shall grant you the power you deserve. You have proven yourself worthy."

D-16 looked at the commander, at his own servos, then glanced back towards the exit. Towards the scattering of stars, almost incomparably breathtaking. He noticed part of a constellation, shaped like a winding belt. He wondered what it was called.

Chapter Text

There was an old saying. 'If you love someone, let them go. If they come back, then- -'

Oh, frag it all. Orion Pax wasn't coming back here. This place was built upon both overglorified violence and pathetic cowardice when it mattered. Those weren't things that his beloved would stand for. If he could still have the right to be in love at all. It was just as Orion had said before he'd left. D-16 had made the decision to align himself with those ideals when he chose to plunge his digits down Starscream's throat.

Though could he really be blamed there? That was the mech who had left his idol Megatronus Prime to die! Then immediately after the devastating revelation, made a blatant, brazen threat to his friend instead of shrinking in shame and remorse like he should! The audacity!

D-16 had simply dealt him a small dose of his own medicine. Was that really so wrong? Being a pacifist all the time was too idealistic, that's how one would get themself all trampled over, even Orion himself had agreed they needed to combine their strategies and use violence when it was justified. What he did really was just self-defense. Heavily emotionally fueled and spur-of-the-moment in a way that was becoming uncomfortably familiar to him, but still, justifiable all the same, wasn't it?

Fine then! Stupid Pax could run off all he wanted. It's not like he cared!

...

...He really wanted to go after him.

That was the essence of Rule Number One, wasn't it? He had spent so long just following wherever that beautiful, effervescent bot went, making sure he was alright, keeping him close by his side. And he knew by Rule Number Three that literally anything could potentially go wrong, even if things were planned out, moreso if one were to break out on an impromptu expedition. Starscream and Elita-One had both previously made strong points of how treacherous the surface was.

'If you love someone, let them go.' Orion could take care of himself. He thought back to their time training together on the roof, assembling armour in sub-level 50, reassuring B-127 on the train. That precious mech really was strong in his own ways, this wasn't the first time he'd thought that, and he genuinely believed it. His optimism empowered his will to survive, he was good at thinking quickly on his pedes, and he had Elita with him to back him up too. He didn't need to be coddled by someone who was just motivated by his own blasted emotions all the time. And when all was said and done, Orion had chosen to leave him behind.

Instead of him, instead of their cause, Orion had chosen a futile lead for the power of the Matrix of Leadership. Though on the other side of the equation, instead of Orion, D-16 had chosen to attempt at convincing the Cybertronian High Guard. It almost felt a bit backwards. He would've laughed if he wasn't so damned miserable.

D-16 wasn't really responsible at all. He'd just suppressed everything stopping him from being so, for much too long. Both he and the one he held dearest were volatile in their own ways. Funny how that volatility earned him praise here, but in Orion's eyes, only brought disdain.

Regardless of all that, the logical parts of his processor were still completely intact, of course. It was time to put those circuits to work. He still had an opportunity ahead of him. The Guard thought he could be an invaluable resource to them... how could he turn them into an invaluable resource for him?

They weren't going to get anywhere with the screaming fool that currently took the helm, that was for certain. 50 entire cycles and they had done little of substance to really dismantle Sentinel's regime. Meanwhile, look at what he and his companions had accomplished despite having been sheltered, lied to and mutilated!

He lamented losing control. He wanted to keep a tight grip on his fury and use it as a tool instead of letting it use him. Maybe these Guards could help him gain a transformation cog. That lack of equal footing in raw ability was the only thing really stopping him from usurping their sorry excuse for a leader and manipulating them to rally behind him instead. They could storm Iacon to raise the revolt he had dreamed of, seize the false Prime's residence in an ambush much akin to the one Sentinel himself staged all that time ago, demand the location and return of everyone's else's rightful cogs just like Orion would've wanted. And if those cogs no longer existed? Well, Sentinel's associates have had theirs for long enough, it was time for the former lower-classes to have their much-deserved turn with a cog, and that was going to happen even if they needed to use force.

Orion would understand, he would eventually be grateful, and then they'd be able to reconcile and he wouldn't have to live the rest of his life in darkness.

Primus, his spark ached.

He and B-127 had been each assigned a recharge pod in the tightly-packed guards' quarters bearing far too much resemblance to the ones in the mines for his liking, with the only difference being they were clearly built for bigger mechs. The berths were cramped together edge to edge, and were noticeably worse for wear. The bare layout of the room made it clear this was originally intended to be a temporary hideout rather than a permanent base.

Apparently, the mechs whose spots they were taking had only gone offline a handful of solar-cycles ago. Blasted into dust by a Quintesson scouting ship, they were told.

As it turned out, the High Guard were what Sentinel was actually looking for during his 'missions for finding the Matrix', and his deplorable alien friends seemed to be willing to lend a helping tentacle to eradicate the only bots capable of exposing their deal. That's also why there was energon on the train, one of the other guards, Slipstream, had explained. The extraterrestrials were taking it as payment in exchange for allowing Sentinel to 'rule' rather than simply pillage the planet for resources themselves.

He had been furious enough under the belief that he and his fellow miners were enslaved for the sake of the Cybertronian elite, but the fact that his very purpose since he was online was actually benefitting the mortal enemies of his entire species? It disgusted him to his very core. He wanted to wrench apart his every component and rebuild himself in a frame that hadn't been complicit in such a despicable betrayal.

There wasn't much use in dwelling on how much he wanted Sentinel to corrode and suffer and die right now, though. All it was doing was making his fans speed up. He had to take his own advice he had previously given to Orion. "Even if you want things to change, you can't just throw yourself at stuff and hope it works out." He wasn't willing to admit that his unstable emotions had got him acting a total hypocrite.

First, he'd rest. Then, he'd plan. Then, the vile pretender would pay.

Whilst Starscream seemed to have taken some sort of twisted liking toward him, and the commander's two closest subordinates regarded him with indifference (as far as he could tell from their expressionless faces), some of the Guard were still wary or even hostile towards their new cogless companions. Even though Slipstream, who currently was resting in the slot opposite him, had answered B-127's questions, her responses were curt and borderline sarcastic. He wouldn't be surprised if some of the mechs tried to disregard the order that said not to pick a fight with them until they procured a transformation cog. Perhaps if the next soldier to fall wasn't annihilated so thoroughly, their cog could become his.

As he attempted to get comfortable in the vertical berth that was a fair order of magnitude too large for him, he found a folded note of some sort wedged into a joint of material in the side and pulled it free.

It was all yellowed and frayed, and the writing had been partially dissolved by long-dried tears, but a segment of it was still legible. It read:

I shall echo your cherished memory in every light I see

though no sun nor star is more luminous than the spark for which I yearn

may the sky be your defender, may the sky be their defeat

you shall teach brightness to constellations as I long for your return

The poem was roughly scrawled, filled with passion and desperation and yearning. D-16 tried to imagine the forlorn lover penning this ballad, funneling all their emotions in a last letter to someone they may never see again, but only managed to picture himself.

Perhaps in some other universe, he also was a poet. Perhaps he too would lose the one he loved the most under that vast starlit sky, and never find out how he perished. That was a situation that wasn't completely implausible right now, and he willed for that thought to destroy itself immediately. Orion was going to be fine. Orion had left him behind. Orion didn't want him around.

Feeling a foreign hollowness inside him, he folded the page again and shoved it back where he had found it. The underlying force of rage that almost constantly bubbled within him as of late was still preferable to this current sense of being empty.

Constellations. He had seen one with his very own optics for the first time this very night. It shone so boldly against the deep blue void of space with incomparable brilliance, yet D-16 knew what the poet meant when they described their partner as someone who was even brighter than that.

As he shut his optics and attempted to enter recharge, a memory made its way to the forefront of his processor.

It had been a particularly harsh shift, so everyone was grateful for a break. To blow off some steam, Bluestreak had suggested they have an impromptu gathering at the nearby oil house, and quite a few miners from across squadrons and tiers had decided to join. D-16 wasn't going to go, but Orion seemed to find it important to build rapport with his colleagues or something, so for his sake, he'd tag along.

Once they had made enough room for their group by pushing two long tables together, a bot he believed was named Arcee went to order from the bar on everyone's behalf, and the rest of them broke off into various clusters of chitchat.

He actually had a much more enjoyable time mingling with the others than he would've expected. At first, he was simply being dragged into conversations by Orion, but after a while and a few controlled sips of energon wine, talking with his coworkers felt rather less awkward - apart from that brief exchange when Jazz had tried to question why he hadn't yet chosen a designation.

Just because he stuck with 'D-16' didn't mean he was bad at self-expression! It just meant... it meant... well, he just needed more time to think. Even though it had been way more cycles than it normally took for one to come to this decision. The authorities had assigned him a completely serviceable name, and his existence hinged on trusting that they know what they are doing, so he saw no reason why he needed to do away with what they had decided on for him. That was clearly the only reason why he hadn't thought of anything better suited for himself than 'D-16' - it was the perfect symbol of him being a respectful model citizen. If only he could convince his frustratingly impudent best friend to see things the same way he did, they could work their way through the mining tiers together, just like the system intended, and there wouldn't be a problem in the world.

Outside of the realm of the flashback, D-16 felt himself tense in disdain at the reminder of the mental gymnastics he used to do just to keep himself feeling placated and content. His optics remained shut as he vented deeply before returning to the flow of reminiscence.

When the night was no longer young and bots were filtering out of the oil house at a steady pace, he went to address Orion again. Oh, the silly thing's sips of intoxicant were, to put it nicely, far less controlled than his own. Although he was still coherent, the smaller bot seemed at least a little tipsy, vocals sounding somewhat more dragged out than usual. It probably should have raised concern, but frankly, it was endearing in a strange way.

"What's on your mind, D?" the cute mech had asked.

"Oh, I still haven't thanked you for helping me un-jam my drill earlier," D-16 replied. "The usual 'bang it against the wall until it spins again' didn't come in clutch this time. Almost got me feeling like my tools have betrayed me." he chuckled lightly, trying to sound casual to match the atmosphere.

"Don't even mention it. Now you know the tried and true Orion Pax technique, it won't happen again. Guaranteed or you get your shanix back." his friend grinned. "Though seriously, it's incredible you're topping our squad's leaderboard when you didn't even know that simple trick. Oh noooo, what would Elita-One think?!"

"Wow Pax, I'm hurt. Next shift, I'm replacing you with Wheeljack." he joked in return. Orion had reached over from the adjacent seat to place a servo on his shoulder as they both laughed. "You know I'm just teasing, D. I'll always be there to help you out with anything you need, no matter what it is."

Just then, a loud thudding noise grabbed the attention of everyone who remained at the table. Something- - no, someone had been tossed across the room into the floor, skidding along for a nanoklik or two before flopping down in a halt. He turned to Orion to signal they needed to leave, only to find the slippery little bot was no longer in his seat. Instead, he had stumbled his way into the boundaries of the fight, attempting to help the fallen victim back onto their pedes. Moments later, glass splintered off in all directions as a bottle was hurled towards them.

Something in D-16's circuits clicked into action, as if he was now operating on autopilot. Rule Number One: Protect Orion Pax at All Costs. Before he knew it, he had rushed in himself, hauled the frustratingly selfless mech into his arms, and made a mad sprint for the doorway.

He must've been running for several kilks before his senses came back to him and his frame began to ache. Confirming that they were completely clear of the troublesome altercation, D-16 set Orion onto the pavement gently, who was still slightly woozy and grabbed onto his arm to help stabilise himself as they walked. The streetlamps let out a low hum as they flickered, and without quite knowing why, the two of them looked up.

"Do you think we'll ever be able to see any stars?" Orion asked. It was a strange and abrupt question, but D-16 decided to entertain it regardless. "When Sentinel Prime finds the Matrix, maybe he'll be able to make the surface safe to go to again. If that happens, then maybe."

This answer seemed to satisfy his companion, who was grabbing his other arm now, stopping them in the middle of the path. "That sounds great, my D. We might even get to see a constellation." Orion said happily, optics wide with wonder, "I read in the Archives once that some of them have names. Wouldn't it be awesome if we picked one out and named it after us? Ori-D? 16-ion? Oh, oh, I got it. D-Pax. How's that sound?"

D-16 couldn't help but return the soft smile that was so close in front of him. "I heard Jazz and Arcee talking about constellations earlier and how they come in all sorts of funny shapes. What do you think ours would be? A shovel smacking an idiot?" he teased, before breaking one of his servos free to deal a light playful punch.

Orion giggled. "Maybe it could be shaped like an energon cube?" he suggested.

"That's just a cube!" D-16 snickered, making a show of rolling his optics. Their gazes met, and seemed to linger for a moment too long, as if they were both looking for something, though D-16 wasn't sure what.

Suddenly feeling rather hot, he decided to break the silence once more. "Is that why you like running off to the Archives so much then, instead of just helping by not helping and leaving the work to the professionals? You're desperate for the Matrix to be found because you wanna see the stars that badly?"

Orion, still drunk, gave another sweet little laugh, bringing his face unbearably close. "Oh, D-16." he said. "I don't need to go through all that to see the stars. I'm already looking right at one."

Back in the dark, stuffy berthroom, the present-cycle D-16 jolted awake with a start, fans kicking into action ferociously as he vented heavily, panting with his mouth wide open and feeling trickles of optical fluid drip against his glossa.

At the time he had chalked it up to just drunken nonsense that Orion was babbling, but now the intent was so obvious it might as well be highlighted, underlined and in triple bold. He had wasted so much time in denial when his feelings never even were unreciprocated all along. At least, they weren't, but D-16 had ruined things now. Or perhaps, he'd already lost his chance long before. It had been quite a few cycles since that incident, and he wouldn't be surprised if the one he secretly desired had gone and taken his inaction as a rejection.

FRAG!!!!!!!!!!

D-16 raised his fists, wanting to slam them against the sides of the berth in anger, but he held back and lowered his servos instead. This was exactly why Orion didn't love him anymore. He wasn't the same mech that had protected his crush from the violence of a fight. The mech that he was now would probably have joined in. Beat both of those involved in the brawl into a pulp for daring to interrupt their evening. Was that really the bot he wanted to be when they brought forth the new, free Cybertron?

He didn't want to be a tyrant like Sentinel. He didn't want to be a coward like Starscream, either. He wanted to be D-16. He wanted to be Megatron.

'Orion, please be patient.' he thought. 'Once I've got things sorted here, we'll take back our planet together, just like I promised.'

Then maybe, just maybe, he could ask if his most cherished light would change his mind, and decide to love him once more. Maybe, they'd finally name that constellation.

Chapter Text

It seems somewhere along the way, D-16 had finally managed to fall into recharge. One moment, he was having a spark-wrenching emotional flashback, then the next time he opened his optics, the cave was several shades brighter. Or maybe it was just B-127's yellow frame being less than a servo's length away from his face.

"Hiii again, D! Did you have a good recharge? I know I did. This was so much comfier than what I had in sub-level 50, it's so roomy! And very stable. The conveyor belt was really not it, y'know? But here, I can just streeeeeetch around... Ooh, aren't you excited to finally see the sun? Those documents in the Archives said not to look at it, but I'm sure Mr Sunshine isn't that mean of a guy, right? I bet he wouldn't mind if we took just a little peek?!"

Well, at least one of them had woken up on the right side of the berth. The mech who had decidedly not had a good night gently pushed aside his overenthusiastic friend and stepped out onto the floor, deciding to follow the guards who were trickling out into other parts of the cave.

"B, you don't look directly at the sun because it'll burn a giant hole in each of your optics." he groaned. His companion contemplated this for a brief moment.

"Eh, you know what? Worth it!"

Despite himself, D-16 couldn't help but let out a small laugh. "Sometimes you sound just like Orion. Except he knows how to vent in between his sentences."

Upon the mention, the atmosphere changed, amplified by the slight breeze carried through the corridor they were now in. The two of them had stopped walking, and Slipstream shoved past them with a tut.

"We are gonna go find him eventually, right?" B-127 asked, slumping noticeably before straightening back up, "I mean, I get it, it's the Commander Starscream, he's even cooler in the metal, I still can't even believe it! I have so many questions to ask him, I can't wait, though you guys did kinda fight for a bit but we're all chill now, right? So, uh, yeah. Are we gonna go look for Orion? Sometime? Maybe? Definitely? Definitely is my favourite choice, by the way."

D-16 took a moment to digest the word salad that had just been thrown at him. Eventually, he spoke, golden optics flashing bright in the darkened passageway. "Why didn't you go with him?"

"You... stood up for me. Even if it was kinda scary... like I'm not saying you're a scary guy, you're actually super nice! Though the bit when your optics went all red was like, 'whoa, you good there buddy?', you get me? I really gotta thank you though. For having my back and stuff. Like you said on the train."

Actually, Orion had said that, and D-16's spark wasn't even in it when he'd nodded along at the time, but he felt like at this point, the statement didn't warrant a correction.

"And hey, I knew you'd miss your best friend BADASSATRON if I just left you alone. And I know alone. It. Sucks. I guess the High Guard would be better at chatting than A-A-Tron and Steve, but still... sometimes you just need a friend, you know? I always wished I had one, and now I do and you're one of them. And Orion's got Elita, so... I'm here. For you, too." The small little bot drew near with his arms spread, but then jolted as if he had recalled something and backed away to pretend like he was examining a nearby wall.

It took a few nanokliks for all that was said to properly sink in, but when it did, D-16 decided to tap his buddy on the shoulder and offer up a closed fist. Realising the meaning of the gesture, B's expression exploded into a giddy grin, and he all-too-happily accepted the fist bump, slamming his own servo into D-16's with far more force than was necessary.

"My best friend is Orion Pax." the silver mech clarified, shaking his slightly aching limb. 

"You're gonna need to do a recast for that role soon anyways, when your current bestie gets a promotion, if you get what I mean. I'm just putting in my application early. I have a pretty extensive work experience!" For some reason, D-16 found it irked him a bit that B-127 poked fun at his own past mistreatment, but chose not to comment on it, instead opting to play into the joke.

"Alright candidate, I'll let you know when there's a vacancy." Overcome by the absurdity of the analogy, the two mechs both burst into laughter. That wasn't even how jobs worked for cogless bots. Not yet, anyways.

The two of them began walking again, even though neither seemed to have a destination in mind. He couldn't help but wonder if Orion and Elita-One were getting on well. She'd probably chewed his audials clean off by now, and he probably deserved it. Oh, they'd definitely have a funny story or two to share by the time they met up again.

"Orion doesn't give up. If he wasn't so stubborn, I wouldn't have to drag his sorry aft out of the Archives every other solar-cycle. Or, I guess, had to." He smiled sadly as he reminisced on times that now felt so far away. "But... that's cause he had a vision, he had hope for a better Cybertron, and he just wanted to try to do something, even if it was totally crazy. You'd better not tell anyone I said this, but we need that kind of delusion- - okay, not the right word... perseverence. We need to get the High Guard on our side, and we can't just give up that easily."

As if fate itself was helping them out, Starscream and a pair of similarly jet-looking bots came round the corner from the opposite direction. "Hey, won't you look at that!" one of them said, "It's those two sad little things you picked up on that train." D-16 recognised the speaker from the broadcasted memory shown to him the night prior, although he didn't know their name.

"Starscream." he acknowledged, "We should have a word."

"Yes... we've been looking for you, actually. It's time to hold up your end of the deal. Come with me." the commander replied with an impatient looking smile. B-127 was already shaking servos with the other associates, showering them with flattery and praise. "Thundercracker! Skywarp! I saw recordings of your flight practices! You guys rock!!"

"Hey, I like this one. Can we keep him?" the one who seemed to be Skywarp joked.

Before any further tomfoolery could commence, D-16 grabbed his friend by the shoulders and directed him to follow Starscream, who was already halfway down the hallway. "Can you believe it D? One of the Seekers just asked me to belong to them. Nobody's ever said that about me before! I'm checking off so many firsts on this trip, it's crazy!" B-127 blabbered as they walked. Presumably, 'the Seekers' was the name of a subset of the High Guard. It'd certainly explain why the trio shared a striking resemblance, discounting the differences in paintjobs and accessories. "What do you think, should I say yes? Though we did only just meet..."

"That's not what they meant, B! Even you are smart enough to know that."

"Hey guys, you hear that? D-16 said I'm smart! Yesss! That's another win for BADASSATRON-" B froze mid fist-pump, optics going wide for a split nanoklik as he realised he had blurted out his cringeworthy self-assigned moniker in front of some of his greatest idols, "- oh, uhh, that's a nickname he gave me first. I totally didn't come up with it myself or anything... you still think I'm cool, right, Starscream?"

"That would require me to have ever thought about you in the first place." the commander responded, before immediately contradicting himself, "Numerous words have crossed my mind when it comes to you. 'Cool' is definitely not one of them."

B-127 looked deflated at hearing a mech he admired insult him, even though such an outcome should've been fully expected.

"Chin up, new guy. You look like a lame sack of loose bolts." Skywarp snickered, "Screamer's like that to everyone. You're not the first mech he's called a bumbling idiot behind their back." The attempt at reassurance just made things worse, B's entire face falling like it was putty being sucked into a vaccum.

"B's not always an idiot." D-16 tried.

"Yeah, you're right, D!" his friend said, perking back up, "I'm not a 'bumbling idiot' ! I'm like, the total opposite of that. An un-idiot! A bumbling cool guy! Actually, D calls me that all the time! Right, best bud?" 

"I don't think I've ever said the word 'bumbling'. Also, I'm about 90 percent sure it's exclusively used in insults." the purported 'best bud' sighed.

"No, the part about me being smart and a cool guy, D!" B-127 protested playfully.

"I do mean it as an insult, and I'll say it to your face too. You're a bumbling idiot." Starscream snapped, narrowing his optics in annoyance, "Now quit bickering, you two. We're here."

Through the doorway in front of them was some form of research area. "Ah, you've arrived. Welcome to Shockwave's lab." Knock Out grinned, whilst Shockwave himself looked rather exasperated, focusing on soldering a new component onto the broadcasting machine from last time. The device was wheeled out front and centre, next to a metal stool scaled for a cogged mech.

Overall, the structure of the room was in the same sort of dilapidated state as the rest of the wreck they were in, but all the equipment looked cautiously maintained. It was hard to tell what exactly a lot of the stuff did, though. There were cupboards with various scraps of material and mysterious vials of liquids, as well as several benches, some clean, some with mostly neat piles of items clustered across them, all marginally lopsided thanks to the bumpy ground. The furnishings were in such a condition that indicated they likely originally belonged to the ship that crashed here, rather than being composed of repurposed salvaged materials from elsewhere. Soundwave was also present, stood as stoically as usual in a corner away from any of the fragile inventions. 

"Oh, hey Soundwave! Sorry for biting you that one time." B-127 said with an enthusiastic wave that nearly hit one of his companions. The mech in question responded with a curt nod, and the little menace beamed brightly back at him. "Glad you didn't mind. It will happen again."

Behind his tinted visor, it almost seemed like the stern guard's optics brightened for a nanokilk. After a brief moment of silence, he simply replied with "... Acknowledged."

Meanwhile, Knock Out seemed to have made himself comfortable being perched rather smugly on top of one of the benches. "What are you doing here?" Starscream asked, managing to sound even more irritated than before.

"Here to watch the show, of course. Mm, I should've brought some popped energon. You've only just got here and I'm already entertained." the medic replied smoothly. Thundercracker and Skywarp turned to each other and chuckled.

"The memory scan, Commander." Shockwave reminded, ignoring the antics. "Knock Out, get off my bench."

The sassy doctor looked ready to make some cheeky retort, but saw a laser-arm aimed right at him and immediately changed gears, hopping off the desk to join the small crowd that had just entered. "Alright, alright! No need to threaten my paint job!"

Once everyone seemed to have settled and Shockwave had placed what looked like a data chip into the new compartment of his machine, Starscream spoke up once more, addressing D-16 and his fellow cogless companion. "We're here so you can hold up your end of the deal. One of you, sit down, connect up, and show us what we want." he ordered.

"Wait, why aren't we in the big room in front of everyone again?" B-127 asked dumbly, instead of just going along with this quickly so they could get on to matters that were actually important.

"Your memories need to be scanned and vetted first, just in case you try to pull any more sneaky tricks. You lot sure are bold for mechs who can't fly." Thundercracker said. "Shockwave's set up his gizmo to record, and we'll play that back for everyone at our next gathering." Skywarp added.

The explanation seemed to make enough sense, and B-127 hesitantly sat down next to the broadcasting device that had now been modified to possess recording capabilities. His frame, tiny even for a cogless bot, looked rather comical on the disproportionately sized stool, his pedes hanging a fair bit above the ground, allowing him to swing his legs back and forth freely, which he began to do at an almost irritating pace.

"Come on now, Bumble, plug into the machine." Starscream urged.

"Actually, my name is B-127, though my friends just call me B, and in fact- -" 

"Sure, whatever, Bumble B. Plug into. The machine."

The mechs simply looked at each other for a few nanokliks. Eventually, B spoke again. "Uh, sorry, but... how?"

"Seriously?!" the agitated Seeker barked incredulously. "Just open the connection port in your digit! It's not hard!"

"I have a connection port?!"

Starscream looked close to either banging his own head against a wall or grabbing someone else and banging their head against one. Noticing this, Knock Out decided to interfere. "Here, for goodness sake, allow me. Shockwave, a little help in doing the honours?" 

Before anyone knew it, B-127 was wailing his audials off as the surgeon performed the very unprecise and rather brutal procedure of prying one of his fingertips off, with the sturdy purple scientist holding him in place. D-16 grimaced. It did not look pleasant.

"Ah, quit with all the crying. We wouldn't have to do this if you could transform. I'll snap it back on later." Knock Out promised, as the end of B's digit finally came off with a click. Now that his relevant port was exposed, the mech was unceremoniously connected up, and it didn't take an expert to tell the experience of being plugged into abruptly wasn't particularly nice.

"Go on. Show me what life was like for you in Iacon." Starscream demanded.

The seated mech gave out one final sob, before mimicking what the commander did the other day and shutting his optics in concentration.

The projection showed the inside of the Archives, D-16 recognised the place from having to extract Orion from situations of various sorts in the past. An assortment of cleaning supplies were placed in a bucket next to yellow pedes, but the vision was instead focused on a display from a data chip, showing some of the same mechs that currently stood around them.

"Whoa..." the hologramatic B was saying, "it's them again, the Cybertronian High Guard! Wow... they look so dashing! And those wings are so pretty!"

Ths Seekers seemed rather pleased at this praise, and D-16 swore for a second he noticed Starscream's wings involuntarily flutter. Ha, so the high-and-mighty leader wasn't immune to such a frivolous thing as flattery. His sense of self-worth was obviously important to him, which explained why he seemed to revel in being in a leadership position. D-16 would make a mental note of that.

"Oi, you! Your purpose is to ensure proper maintenance of this establishment, not to waste working hours swooning after long-offlined mechs!" shouted an unfamiliar voice from the broadcast. Startled by the unanticipated reprimand, past-B-127 jumped, losing his grip on the chip that was in his servo.

In a panic, he dived to try and stop it from hitting the floor, but not only did he fail to prevent damage to that particular record, he also wound up slamming into an entire shelf full of datapads... sending them all down at once.

"Ugh... that's it. The dust hasn't even settled from yesterday's break-in, and now this. I need to get management to send us a utility drone that isn't defective..." the librarian glowered, dragging B-127 by the neck out of the mess he'd created with one forceful servo. "Let's get this stupid scrap metal reassigned somewhere else. Ideally as far away from here as possible."

The scene quickly faded directly into the streets of Iacon, where a clawed device was seen attached to the right servo of the bot whose memories they were viewing. An energon treat wrapper was picked up from the ground using the tool, and then placed into a tub that was held in B's other servo.

"Morning, Darkwing! Off to work?" the sprightly cleaning bot chirped as an all-too-familiar pain-in-the-aft walked into view. The mine coordinator huffed in annoyance but otherwise paid the garbage collector no mind and moved to pass by. All of a sudden, however, the two of them had collided.

B had been knocked off balance by a different mech, who was likely rushing to get on a transport before their shift started. Unable to keep his footing, he had tripped and fallen right onto Darkwing, spilling the entire contents of his collection bin over them both.

"AUGHHHHHH, STREET CLEANER!!!!" the short-tempered fragger yelled, loud enough that other passerbys looked to see what the commotion was, as he stood up and shook off the trash, throwing B-127 to the ground in one swift motion. "I don't want to see you ever again! I'll make sure myself you're getting demoted!!!"

Before any of them could comment on what a total glitch Darkwing was, and how it actually was incredibly satisfying to see him covered in fellow garbage, the projection shifted once again, this time in some form of energon cubing factory.

"Hey, this is kinda fun, isn't it? Got an arts and crafts vibe to it." B's disembodied voice was commenting to a rather fed up fellow worker, "Did you know that up there in the fancy city, some bots will have some super cool sculptures and artworks and stuff in their habisuites? I kinda feel like I'm making one of those. Even though I'm really just preparing energon cubes. But it's important work, right? Eating the raw stuff would probably do in your dentae, and I kinda think maybe that's- -"

In his distracted state, the motormouth had gone and knocked over a large pitcher of liquid energon, shattering glass all over the floor. The audience couldn't see his face, but it was safe to assume B-127 currently looked incredibly guilty.

"DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY SOLAR CYCLES OF RATIONS YOU JUST DESTROYED?!" a thundering voice screamed. Well, it was pretty clear how that particular short-lived job was going to end.

The next memory took place within the mines. A line of fresh recruits waited nervously in anticipation for their first assignment. B had tried to strike up a conversation with the bot next to him, but stopped mid-sentence, instead simply mumbling "actually, never mind." The shiny new face beside him was actually one D-16 recognised. Just how long ago was this?!

"I'm sure it's all going to be alright." Arcee whispered reassuringly, "I don't know anything about mining yet, but I do know you don't need to be scared."

As B-127 dwelled on this, other workers were seen rushing past, wheeling carts to and fro and running back and forth with their jetpacks and drills. At one point, there was even someone missing an entire limb being carried by on a threadbare stretcher, whilst their supervisor shouted about how their next set of rations would be withheld as punishment for their incapacitating accident.

"If you don't contribute to work, you don't get to share the rewards" is what was said, as if fuel wasn't an essential requirement for anyone to continue functioning. Yet, such statements were no stranger to D-16, nor were any of the events unfolding before him as of now. He'd seen fellow miners such as Wheeljack, Jazz and Bluestreak be reprimanded for incidents much the same as this, where one or more of them had come out the other end a few components lighter thanks to some unfortunate circumstance that more often than not wasn't even their own fault.

He couldn't understand how his former self just sat back and watched all of this happen, how he'd buried his helm in Sentinel's sickly-sweet words and stayed in denial of everything that was evident if he just looked around for a nanoklik or two. He had denounced the High Guard for running away from their problems because he knew how it felt to have done so.

The D-16 of the past had sought comfort in protocol and bottled up any discontent in favour of blindly worshipping a false prophet until he couldn't bear the broken promises and irrational demands anymore. As a result, he had repeatedly caused harm to the one he loved. The damage they'd dealt to one another would never be undone, and the future was uncertain, but the D-16 of today wasn't going to run. From now on, if he had any issues, he'd confront them head on.

It was also strange to consider, if things had gone a different way, B-127 would still be stuck at the bottom of Cybertron, and his story would never be told. Snapping out of his thoughts, D-16 returned his attentions to that tale.

In the realm of the hologramatic memory, it seemed B had eventually made up his mind to talk to Arcee after all. The beginnings of an unknown word escaped from the tip of his glossa, and she looked at him with a friendly smile. But right then, he was interrupted by the awful, deafening sound of heavy-set footsteps.

Darkwing came into view once again. He marched down the tunnel, giving a brief, flippant once-over to each of the new miners. When he reached the shortest mech, however, he stopped, snapping his entire frame around and grabbing the golden bot's shoulders with such force he must've left a mark, as the entire vision shook from the impact.

"No." he said simply, and then, within moments, B-127 was falling, just like D-16 and Orion had not that long ago. So much for not needing to be scared.

"Sentinel Prime has a special position just for you, a mech so incompetent he can't do anything else." the mine boss declared with arrogant contempt as he landed with a slam behind where the poor little bot had collapsed into a heap, consciousness barely clinging on and vision hazy, "You will be in charge of sorting trash in sub-level 50. Trash, just like yourself. Put anything valuable into the box, and anything else into the fire. This is where you'll belong from now on. Where you won't get in anyone else's way ever again."

With that, the mech that society abandoned was harshly kicked into the chamber that would now serve as his home, and the heavy door snapped shut as his systems went into an unwilling recharge to recover from the damage of the fall.

Back in Shockwave's lab, tears were streaking down B-127's cheeks as he forced himself to relive all his most unpleasant memories. Of being mistreated and disregarded by all of Cybertron, of being thrown away to be forgotten forever simply for making one too many mistakes. Despite his apparant pain, D-16's friend didn't shut off the recording, instead wordlessly speeding up the pace of the flashbacks as he started to recall his mundane existence in the planet's lowermost sub-level.

The scenes before them were so depressing, nobody in the room dared to say anything. They watched, disturbed, as B-127's constant self-reassurance that someone, anyone, would come to join him soon eventually broke into deranged cackles, then agonising sobs, and then efforts to construct an imaginary friend from the scrap landing on the conveyor belt.

"Hey A-A-Tron! How was your night! Good night, all right, everything's nice in the night, aha aha ha... maybe it was night? Was it morning? Who cares! You know what? I had a fun idea when I was in recharge. Or maybe just before, or maybe when I just woke up, I dunno. What is time, anyways? It's a trick. A TRICK!!!!! Okay, but listen. What if, hear me out, I was called Badassatron. No no wait, I didn't do it right that time. It's said more like this. Wait for it..."

The inanimate piles around the table sat still in anticipation.

"BADASSATRONNNNN. ...What do you think? It means I'm a total badass. Like, I could be all epic and awesome and stuff, just like Starscream, or Airachnid, or one of the Primes! Bang! Bang! Bang! Strongest, coolest, most handsome refuse sorter in all of Iacon! Back me up, Steve! EP-508!"

After the third klik of B-127 talking to the nonsentient sculptures as if they were real, Starscream went and unplugged the machine, and the stream of noise lapsed into nothingness.

For a few moments, the room was uncomfortably quiet, save for a steady stream of muted sobs.

None of the mechs present seemed particularly inclined to say anything. Shockwave seemed as uncaring as ever, it was hard to glean what exactly Soundwave thought, Knock Out appeared to have gained a sudden interest in examining his servos, and Thundercracker looked pretty awkward stood all stiffly next to the other Seekers. It seemed as if the High Guard hadn't expected the planet they once devotedly defended to have devolved into this. If they had any goodness in their sparks, the memories they had just witnessed should have left them fuming. And there D-16 had thought he couldn't hate Sentinel's elite more.

"Holy Primus, that was miserable." Skywarp finally broke the silence.

"Old Iacon wasn't all sunshine and sparkles either, you know." Starscream stated, trying to maintain his usual scowl, "You're not the only one who's gone through a lot. Don't think you're special."

B-127 hiccuped amidst his stifled crying as he nodded.

"Is your chosen designation really Badassatron?" Thundercracker decided to prod.

"Actually, I kinda like the sound of 'Bumblebee'. A real badass chose it for me." the yellow bot said feebly, his usual joyful tone trying its best to push through, as Shockwave went over to retrieve the completed recording.

Starscream actually went to exchange a perplexed look with D-16 of all mechs, who somehow understood his concern without requiring a word.

"...you do realise I was insulting you, don't you?" the frustrated guard eventually questioned with a disbelieving laugh.

"Well yeah, you meant it that way at first, but it sounds cute! So like, there's no reason why we can't change the intention! I think that'd be pretty neat. Taking something that was meant to be mean, and making it nice instead. I'm thinking I could spell it with two 'e's, so it looks all pretty. Bumblebee... It's the first real nickname I've gotten from a friend!" B-127 wiped his dripping optics with his undisturbed servo, bouncing out of his seat and landing on the ground with a clank.

"And now I've got so many friends with me, I know even if I used to always be bad at stuff and acted like a 'bumbling idiot', eventually I'll find my place. I'm so happy to have met you guys!" B-127 declared, his tears finally slowing, faceplate dulled where tracks of optical fluid had repeatedly dripped down the metal, but smile still bright all the same.

"Uh, we aren't exactly your friends- -" Skywarp objected.

"Let Bumblebee believe what he wants. Let's consider the deal satisfied for now, I've had enough of this reminiscing. It's almost time for our rations." Starscream turned to leave, but a determined silver mech called after him.

"So what are we planning to do to attack Sentinel today?" 

"He's not due to come to the surface again this cycle." Thundercracker stated, as if the conclusion should be obvious.

"So?" D-16 pressed, unconvinced of the implication.

"Well, when they're here, sometimes we'll capture one of his mindless Trackers for experiments." Knock Out said, making a vague gesture at the miscellaneous equipment scattered across the lab, "Or, well, I did say 'mindless', but that may just be all the processor damage from their helms being rammed into things. I needed some way to shut them up before Shockwave got round to cracking them open. Metaphorically and literally. Don't ask for details." The pairing of the doctor's nonchalant tone with the admission to operations that were most likely unethical to some degree was rather jarring.

Okay, so it seemed quite a few of the Guard might have a screw or two missing from their circuit boards. Well, as long as they reserved such ruthlessness only for their enemies and not inflict it upon the innocent, they could be as deranged as they wanted in their free time. Although if Orion was here, he'd probably be horrified, and implore for everyone to be more compassionate, even if Sentinel's mechs would be all-too-happy to do the same, if not worse, to them. Whatever, the middle of an interrogation was not the time for a moral dilemma.

"All... right... so. What are you doing when he's not on the surface?" asked the dissatisfied ex-miner, who now stood with crossed arms and an icy gaze.

"That's enough! I do not appreciate your tone. We should be the ones asking the questions here, not you!" Starscream shrieked, audial-scratching static blaring from his still-damaged voice box.

"Oh yeah?" D-16 challenged, staring right into fire-red optics, "Cause it sounds to me like you don't even have a plan."

"How dare you! We absolutely do have a plan! Don't take us for incompetent lackeys!" 

"Tell him, Screamer!" Skywarp cheered. "You go, Starscream!" B-127 chimed in.

"Hey, what gives, B?!"

"Oops, sorry. I got caught up in the moment."

"Hah, look which one of us is Bumblebee's best friend now." the commander smirked in a juvenile taunt, "Have less of an attitude and then maybe mechs will actually like you."

"Thought you said you liked my spirit." came the provoking response.

"Maybe I did, but right now, you'll need to do more to stay in my favour."

Once again, the two mechs were stood less than a servo's width apart, although they weren't face-to-face owing to their substantial height difference, unlike when Starscream was seated. The tension was so thick, it could be cut with a salvaged hand-blade from sub-level 50.

"Right, cause you need to do more to get into mine." D-16 growled. "You're just sitting here twiddling your digits whilst countless mechs are suffering. We know Sentinel is rotten today, and we need to make him pay for it, TO-DAY!!"

"Why should we risk us all being destroyed and humiliated when we can just wait for him to run out of offerings and have the Quintessons finish him off for us? Then, we swoop in and finish them. It's a foolproof strategy." 

"It's a FOOLISH strategy! Are you seriously saying you're willing to let the rest of us die just to save your own pathetic aft?!" At this point, both of D-16's servos were balled into fists, and he had to put strenuous effort into focusing on his venting rather than do anything rash again.

"Why, you--!"

"Oh, please." Knock Out interrupted, "If you're going to fight, don't do it in front of all the breakables. I don't want to chance getting a deep scratch that's hard to buff out." He slithered around the crowd obstructing the doorway, and found a new position leaning gently against a less rocky part of one of the walls, out of the way of any potential altercation.

Shockwave didn't seem to be much pleased that there was such a large gathering interrupting whatever he usually got up to in his lab. "The Well of All Sparks resides in the core of this planet, and it is said to be overseen by Primus himself." he said, the light in his optic blinking on and off as he talked, "If we were to provide the betrayer's corpse as a sacrifice, there is a chance the Matrix of Leadership will be returned to us. The probability of success is appallingly low, but despite me informing them of such, the others chose to agree upon this course of action after considering all possible risk factors."

"Hah, so even you admit you're just waiting around for the impossible to happen." D-16 mocked, "I have a plan, and I'm not afraid. Everything you've got going on here is a joke. Iacon would laugh if they saw the state the High Guard is in now."

"Go on then, enlighten us. What's your brilliant plan, genius?" Starscream asked in a confronting manner.

"We regroup with Elita and Orion, then we storm the city. Unite the forces of the cogless masses and put a standstill to all energon mining operations. All of us together will then seize Sentinel's leadership by overwhelming him with sheer numbers, and dismantle his throne once and for all."

D-16 stepped into the middle of the room, where the machine previously was, and addressed the congregation, fueled by a passionate fury that coursed through his circuits. "I used to be complacent with who I was. I was too scared to fight for what was right, I was afraid because I didn't have any power. I fear no more! But how about you? The High Guard are apparently supposed to be some of the strongest mechs in history, but what are you doing? Being a disgrace! You have power, but you're wasting away instead of exacting rightful change with it. If you want anything to happen, you will join me. Rise up, or get crushed to pieces when I bring the current regime toppling down!"

"Y-You don't have a cog. You need us, you need me by your side to have any chance of overpowering anyone, let alone the false Prime."

"Do I? Listen to yourself."

Starscream's complaints died off into insulted, glitch-filled splutters, and it took him a few nanokliks to gather himself enough to form a retort. "You know as well as I that I could've easily stopped your little display, if I wasn't curious about what you were going to do! I don't need to put up with any of this!"

He raised one of his arms, seeming to want to resort to his usual way of resolving conflicts, but just then, a yellow flash appeared inbetween them.

"You're so amazing and cool and powerful, Commander Starscream," B-127 chirped encouragingly, although his frame appeared to slightly shake, "wouldn't it be nice if everyone in Iacon could see how great you are? You've done so much awesome stuff, but Cybertronians don't seem to know you anymore, or at least D doesn't and he seems pretty smart, like he always sounds like he knows things... so yeah, it seems mechs just don't know you anymore and that's totally not fair! The High Guard is like, the most epic group ever, you guys deserve to have a gazillion fans, not be all sad and lonely in this dark old wreck, so you should get down there and show everyone who you are!"

"We have done some praiseworthy things, that is true..." Starscream muttered proudly.

"Exactly! So why don't you go do one more? Imagine what everyone will say. Cybertron's beloved Starscream. One of the badass heroes who defeated the evil bad guy dictator and returned everyone's transformation cogs! Wouldn't it be so glorious?" Seeing that his tactic was working, B-127 continued, waving his servos in front of him excitedly and grinning from audial to audial - - actually, it was probably less of a tactic and more a genuine fanatical admiration for the High Guard, even if it seemed a bit nonsensical. They had been banished from Iacon long before any of the cogless bots had come online!

All B-127 had to go off of was dusty old records from the Archives, which were likely massively exaggerated to depict these mechs in a positive light, the same mechs that were currently looking more like miserable wet rags. Unlike his idol Megatronus, which everyone knew was the strongest Prime who ever lived, it had always been recorded and that was completely accurate... okay fine, B could engage in hero worship as much as he wanted. If it worked, it worked. The process was irrelevant if it got these seasoned veterans to fight for their cause. Ultimately, the whole reason they stayed here was because the High Guard's involvement would be indisputably beneficial, even if they did come across as pathetic outside of battle.

"Think on it, Starscream." D-16 said.

The leader didn't bother entertaining a response, instead ex-venting sharply and directing his attention away. He looked as if he was going to say something to Skywarp, but then all of a sudden, paused.

"You there. What's your designation?" he asked in his scratchy voice, as he slowly turned back towards the amber-opticed mech still standing just ahead of him.

He almost didn't want to give the fragger the pleasure of knowing his name, especially if he hadn't been paying enough attention to pick it up by now, but acknowledged that was probably a bare minimum requirement if he wanted these mechs to end up working for him. Taking a deep vent, he relented and spat it out with a stone-cold stare.

"D-16?" Starscream repeated, sounding both amused and disgusted in equal measure, "That's hardly a designation. Do the wretched scum down there really not even give mechs the dignity of a proper name? D-16, B-127... what are you, equipment? Come on, someone must have given you a nickname at some point. Even Bumblebee's pretend friends had one. Buckethead? Iron Will?" 

Someone had given him a nickname once. Maybe there had been some others over the cycles, but there was only one he would ever give any level of importance.

"...Megatron. He called me Megatron."

The three jets and the medic actually laughed. "What, you were that big of a fan, huh?" Skywarp said, amused.

"I'm not sure which is funnier - this, or 'Bumblebee'." Knock Out commented.

"You do realise he's not around anymore to be flattered. Mechs with thinner plating than us might even find it offensive that you called yourself that." Starscream added.

"No, not me. Him. Orion Pax. The... mech who ran off, that idiot. He saw Megatronus in me. He saw my potential, that I could have true, balanced power, like a Prime. I... this was our revolution." D-16 declared with determination, "We need him with us to take down Sentinel."

"You're not suggesting we go on a pointless rescue mission, Megatron. We don't even know where he's gone, and we don't care. He didn't cooperate, he's not our business. If he doesn't stand with us, he's no better than Sentinel."

D-16's optics widened in disbelief, before his whole expression shifted in white-hot anger. He grabbed a random item off the nearest bench and hurled it forcefully at the perpetrator of such an outrageous crime of a statement, watching with hateful eyes as it shattered against the Seeker's chassis.

"Frag off!!! How DARE you even THINK to compare my Orion and that bastard?! Every single moment Pax has been thinking of ways to take down the traiterous slagger despite everything standing in his way. He wanted to prove himself even though he didn't have a cog, and even if his plans were stupid and crazy and they didn't work, at least he never gave up. You dumb glitches couldn't even come up with a single half-decent idea for over 50 cycles. Who are you to talk?!" D-16 wouldn't normally throw so many swear words into his speech, but he was currently too riled up to care.

"I know where he's gone. He's got coordinates to Zeta Prime. You must still remember the cave where the Primes had fallen. Are you too scared to come with? Cowards!"

Starscream appeared equally, if not more, infuriated. "YOU frag off! Fine! We'll show you we're not scared."

He clearly felt incredibly slighted by the repeated attacks to his ego, coming so soon after B had all nicely buttered him up. So slighted, in fact, he didn't even clue on that D-16 didn't actually know the coordinates himself, and was counting on the High Guard to show the way. Good thing their leader was so easily 'convinced' after all.

"Is this really wise, Commander? You seem rather... emotional." Shockwave asked with disdain. "And you. You're lucky that wasn't anything particularly valuable."

"SHUT UP! The High Guard are no cowards!" Starscream had also stepped into the centre of the lab, pointing at the scientist threateningly, before jabbing that digit right between D-16's optics.

"Listen here, Megatron. I'll come see just exactly what you're blabbering on about, and when we get there and your little sparkmate is dead and the Matrix is gone just like we said, you'll see just exactly why we know what's best for Cybertron! I am Commander Starscream of the High Guard! I'm 'amazing and cool and powerful'," he quoted B-127 directly, despite it making him sound even harder to take seriously than he already did, "and I'm not about to get bested by a cogless idiot!"

The so-called 'cogless idiot' smirked. "I think you'll see that I'm right. We will find Orion, alive, and we will rally the miners, and we will reclaim Iacon, Matrix or not. No more hiding. No more lies. RISE UP!"

"Rise up." Soundwave repeated, raising a single fist in the air.

All optics fell on the mech who hadn't spoken a word until now. Thundercracker, Skywarp and Knock Out looked at one another, considering this statement of allegiance from one of the High Guard's strongest.

"Rise up! Rise up! Rise up!" The sentiment began to echo amongst them, and soon, the majority of the bots in the room were chanting.

"I'll take a chance to be on the winning team. Between you and I, Megatron seems less rude than our dear Starscream." Knock Out commented, muttering the last part behind a dramatically raised servo in a stage-whisper to Shockwave, who didn't seem to react at the dig at his commander.

"Argh! Stop that racket, will you!" the mech who was rude indeed complained, who fortunately for Knock Out seemed not to have heard the pointed insult. "We've not even had breakfast yet! Get out of my way!" Starscream screeched, finally actually making his way to leave, and the others began to follow.

"Uh, guys? I'm still missing like, a third of my finger."

"CAN IT, BUMBLEBEE!!"

Chapter Text

Thankfully, Knock Out had kept his promise to reassemble B-127's digit. To be frank, D-16 considered it a toss up as to whether the cheeky medic with a surprising violent streak would actually follow through, or whether he'd let someone walk around with a permanent hole in their servo for a laugh or some other form of twisted personal enjoyment. Who knew how some mechs' processors operate.

The process of forcing the end back into its slot had somehow provoked yelps of protest that were even more grating than the ones from when it had been taken off. D-16 wasn't entirely sure why he stayed around to watch the whole ordeal, or why he simply stood in place as the doctor and patient both made their way out, even after Bee gestured for him to follow. Right, yes, he liked being called Bee with two 'e's now, Bumblebee. D-16 found his friend's reasoning for the new name a bit odd, but regardless, it was still a huge improvement over 'Badassatron'. See, this is why he hadn't accepted a custom designation until Orion called him 'Megatron'. It was all too easy to fall into the trap of making yourself sound stupid. Badassatron...

Shockwave noticed his persisting presence with displeasure. "Do you have a reason for obstructing my doorway, or are you looking for a kick up the aft?" he questioned with a threatening aura.

All the while, Soundwave continued to remain stationed in the same back corner of the room. Did he have a face under that visor and mask, or were those his face? Either way, it posed quite an inconvenience towards attempting to read his intentions. And that wasn't even half as confusing as Shockwave's anatomy. How could a mech's entire helm be his optic? Was that a popular configuration in the past, or was there some sort of tragic backstory for how he turned out like that?

"There's still something I want to know." D-16 stated with a confidence that obscured how he had only just thought of his question a mere handful of nanokliks ago. And no, he wasn't going to ask about their heads. He'd leave the art of sticking one's nose into potentially sensitive matters to Bumblebee.

"If you must, Megatron." the resident scientist said impatiently as he turned away to reorganise the materials on one of the lab benches.

"Soundwave. How come you were the first to show support for my plan? I just don't get what your deal is. Actually, I don't get either of you. You don't seem as easily swayed as the others, so why?"

"Megatron's plan: reasonable", was the simple reply, laconic as usual. This didn't satisfy D-16 at all, in fact, it just did more to tick him off. Seriously? That's all? Were the two Waves really that devoid of emotion, or was it some sort of irritating ploy they were playing at?

"Don't you have any more thoughts than that? Any feelings? Aren't you angry at everything Sentinel has done? How could you be so calm after watching all of that suffering he's caused? Don't you wanna do something instead of just standing there like a rock?" He threw his arms apart in exasperation as he stamped a pede, sending small vibrations across some of the benches, which prompted Shockwave to let out a disapproving tut and look back towards him.

"It's illogical to allow one's emotions to overwhelm their processor, when they could be putting their circuits to better use coming up with practical solutions." the violet mech stated as his single eye flashed in a steady pattern, "Starscream has fallen victim to that for far too long. If he didn't possess such prowess in combat, he would easily have been replaced with a less unstable candidate for the Commander position. You would do well to not follow down his path, especially as you do not yet have a cog. Channel your anger towards productivity, and keep in mind, I can, and will, blast you all the way back to Iacon if the downsides of your little scheme begin to outweigh the potential results, regardless of what any of the others may want."

D-16 felt his fury dissolve into unease upon hearing the advice wrapped within a realistic and calculated threat, optics lingering over Shockwave's arm that doubled as a weapon, before focusing on the other mech in the room, who had finally stepped away from the shadowy corner. To his surprise, he felt a large servo land upon him, enveloping one of his shoulders.

"Not all matters warrant words or immediate actions." Soundwave said in a reassuring monotone, before loosening his grip once more.

"Some simply necessitate thought." Shockwave finished, as he passed the data chip with the recording from earlier to his associate. "Letting go of emotional attachments and being objective is the best way to live."

D-16 took a moment to ponder upon this, taking the advice to give time for new information to settle before reacting. Letting himself become emotional had gotten him into a whole new world of trouble, but it'd also opened the door to new opportunities. If he hadn't had the capacity to care, he'd have cut off his friendship with Orion long ago, and would've just always stayed a mindless servant to Sentinel, a slave to the Quintessons. He wouldn't have had the motivation to discover the truth and stand up against the selfish mechs in power.

"Actually," he said, images of Orion, Bee and Elita flashing through his mind, "I don't know if I'd go that far. Thanks for the advice... but the two of you are terrible conversationalists."

Shockwave somehow managed to make it appear as if he rolled his optic, voice sounding rather defeated as he gestured towards the exit. "Go fetch your energon cubes before they run out."

"Aren't you coming with?" the newly mollified silver mech asked as only Soundwave followed him out the door.

"Do I look like I have a mouth to consume it??? Get out! I have my own arrangements, and I don't like being watched when I refuel!" Shockwave yelled, aiming his gun once more. D-16 decided he wouldn't hang around to see if it got used.

---
Bee and Starscream were already halfway through their servings of energon when D-16 arrived, and that was probably only because they paced themselves slowly, by virtue of a conversation that seemed to be flowing surprisingly well. That being said, from an outsider's perspective, their topic of discussion sounded outright bizarre.

"No, Bee, you imbecile!" the Seeker was saying in his usual argumentative tone, "Why would you tug it? Obviously what you're supposed to do is suck on it!"

"But if you don't tug it first, how are you meant to get the good stuff to come out?" his significantly shorter conversational partner debated in return.

Yep. He was not going to ask.

"Oh, hi guys! You made it! We were just talking about the best way to enjoy an energon treat. Screamy here forgot you need to pull the wrapper off first." Bumblebee said as he ran up to him with his usual enthusiasm, "Screamy? Screamster? Starinator? Gosh, I gotta think of a better nickname."

"It's Commander Starscream to you." the mech in question scowled, though failing to completely mask the slight tone of amusement in his voice.

They were in a moderately sized space that served as a mess hall, with various forms of haphazardly placed seating circling a set of crates salvaged from Iacon's so-called garbage trains. It was well known now, of course, that those boxes were actually filled to the brim with oversized blocks of processed Energon, which could easily be split into the mech-sized portions that were being distributed amongst them. Was Orion doing alright for fuel himself? He should hopefully still have his emergency rations.

And Elita... she had loaded those trains herself, hadn't she? She probably took this revelation the worst, having an actually tangible part to play in their hard-earned energon landing in the tentacles of the Quintessons, especially since she always made it evident how much she took pride in her work, no matter what it was. She had been like that for as long as D-16 had known her, even before she was promoted to lead their squad. It was funny how things worked out, though. In another timeline, there was no cave-in accident, and she would've gotten yet another bump up to her rank, and who knows if any of them would've ended up here at all, or if they too would've been disposed of at waste disposal.

As he and Soundwave headed up to join the group that had split from them in the lab, D-16 spotted Slipstream power-walking in the same direction.

"Have you successfully extracted the recording, Starscream?" she demanded. "We've been waiting to see what you've found."

"The broadcast will be temporarily postponed." he asserted in response, provoking a glare from Slipstream as if to say 'seriously, this guy...' Soundwave handed the data chip over to Starscream, who fiddled with it idly in one servo before transforming away a compartment on his arm and stashing it safely within, much akin to what Orion had done with the distress beacon. "Slipstream, keep this lot out of trouble until we return from our excursion. And have your comm line open. Stay on the ready for any further orders from Soundwave or myself."

---
After they had finished fuelling, D-16 and Bee were en-route towards their destination, with the Seekers and Waves in tow, and also Knock Out had been made to come along too, much to the doctor's chagrin. D-16 had insisted on it in case the Orion Pax they came across was more critically injured than he'd hoped - and Starscream had actually agreed with him far more readily than anyone would've thought. Though he suspected it was more because he found the idea of the appearance-obsessed mech getting covered in sand entertaining, rather than actual consideration for anyone else's wellbeing.

Owing to their lack of alt-modes, the two cogless bots had to make use of their companions for transport.

"I can't wait to get going!" Bumblebee had exclaimed, "soo... which one of you wants to be the lucky bot to get up close and personal with BADASSATR- - sorry, old habit. How about... who wants to bumble with the Bee? Any takers?"

The flight-capable mechs stared at one another for several nanokliks, before erupting into chatter, talking all at once.

"Whoa, I sure am Mr Popular right now! They're all fighting over who gets to carry me!" Bee told D-16, seeming quite happy with himself.

"Yeah, they are, but not in the way you think." his amused friend replied in turn, just as Shockwave was heard yelling "Don't even think about making me do it!". Both cogless bots whipped around to stare at where the ground had been scorched from a warning shot.

"Thought we were looking after him now." Thundercracker huffed amongst the building scuffle, wincing as Starscream kicked him in the shin, "Someone needs to take responsibility."

Skywarp paused in throwing a punch to agree. "Hey, good point, TC." the masked Seeker said in an almost devious tone, "Screamer's the leader, so he should be the one in charge of this, don't you think?"

"Woo, Starscream! Let's go!" Bee applauded the idea, though the mech in question seemed far less enthusiastic.

"Do you think you're funny?" Starscream asked, voice sounding even more shrill than usual as he grabbed Skywarp by the shoulders.

"No." Skywarp lied between stifled giggles, completely unfazed at being lifted slightly above the ground.

"Suggestion: depart with haste." a calm voice interrupted, and it was only then that D-16 realised Soundwave had been ready in his alt-mode the entire time - the other Guards were all just too busy arguing with their fists to notice.

"Thanks for volunteering, Soundwave." Starscream said in an undecipherable tone as he threw the mech he was holding at an unsuspecting Shockwave, sending them both into the ground and bringing up a dustcloud that Knock Out practically jumped to avoid.

Bumblebee's expression became over-exaggerated as he brought his servos to his cheeks and opened his mouth dramatically wide, voice taking on an intonation not dissimilar to that which Skywarp had earlier. "Ohhh, I get it! You're scared of carrying a passenger. Well it's okay if you're not confident, I'm sure Soundwave could do a way better job anyways."

Almost immediately, the sound of a transformation sequence rang through everyone's audials.

---
It was thus that Bumblebee had ended up clinging to Starscream in mid-air, seeming rather excited at the concept of flight and cheering as the jet made various acrobatic manoeuvres to show off. "Soundwave couldn't do this, now could he? Who's superior now?" Starscream bragged smugly, not noticing the other Seekers behind him doing a remarkably good mimic of the action he just did.

Meanwhile, D-16, holding a box of medical tools, sat on top of a very displeased Knock Out who drove along below.

"Don't you dare make any sudden movements. If I see as much as a single speck of paint out of place on my exterior, I'll give you a taste of some non-traditional surgery. You won't like it." his driver warned.

"How did you even manage to last this long in the Guard if you're so afraid of getting scratched?" the passenger asked, trying to word the question so it didn't sound as direct of an insult.

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm fully capable of any sort of combat if needs be, I just prefer to stay smart about it. I have full faith in my own expertise - when it comes down to it, there's not many scuffs I can't undo, it just takes time and resources. Which we don't particularly have to spare in this wretched place."

The reminder of their predicament brought them to an awkward silence as they sped across the vast surface of Cybertron. As far as the eye could see, there was just stretches upon stretches of rubble and organic matter, barely anything to hint that this place was ever anything more than a wasteland. One had to wonder if that was true.

"What was Iacon like? Before?"

"Before the Quintessons came around, up here wasn't nearly this much of a mess." laughed the red car beneath him, finish already beginning to dull from the specks brought up by the rapid rotation of his wheels, something he was sure to complain about later. "It's only after they started exploding our buildings and the surface started having a mind of its own that we had to scram underground. Honestly, it was very impolite. They just showed up out of nowhere and started blasting with zero negotiation, can you believe it? So rude..."

D-16 blinked. "Uh... yeah. That's, kinda a light way to put it, doc."

"They built those sub-levels rather efficiently, to be honest. I used to drive like this all the time in New Iacon when I wasn't on duty. Or, I suppose, just Iacon now. I joined the races. Mechs cheered me on, and of course, I well deserved it. I was an expert at all of my jobs."

"Right... I... believe... you...?" It was hard to know what to say in response to such blatant self-aggrandisement. "What else. Tell me something interesting."

Knock Out sounded genuinely insulted. "My endeavours were plenty fascinating, thank you very much! I could just let you walk the rest of the way, if you'd prefer."

"You wouldn't do that."

"Mm, but I could."

Once again, they lapsed into silence, bar for the sound of motors and the distant noise of Bumblebee chattering about something unintelligible. The sky was a clear, pale blue, illuminated by a blazing star that was painful to try to look at. He hoped Bee hadn't actually taken it upon himself to stare into the sun, or if he did try, that one of the Seekers or Soundwave might have the decency to try to stop him.

He started trying to figure out how he'd address Orion when they reunited. Obviously, immediately jumping into a sweeping declaration of love would be far too embarrassing, and very much not D-16's style at all. But what was he to say? Was he to start berating his beloved for wandering out into the unknown, begging for him to please start having more consideration for his own wellbeing... and D-16's aching spark?

Before he could ponder on it any further, Knock Out was unexpectedly attempting to strike a conversation again, but this time, uncharacteristically stumbled over his words.

"Say. Have you... by any chance... did you... well. This Orion we're heading out to look for right now. They're someone quite close to you, aren't they."

"You could say that." His feelings went far beyond what words could encapsulate right now. It was still difficult to get his thoughts on Orion in order. He knew he loved that mech, after all he'd been through that much was for sure, but there was also some resentment for the perceived abandonment, a seeping, painful feeling that he wasn't sure what to make of.

"I... I left someone behind, too." Knock Out murmured, hushed and sombre. "Actually, most of us did. Friends, something more, or even just acquaintances. We may be the warriors or Cybertron or whatever, but we're still just mechs. We're not... without attachments. You must be worried that when we arrive you'll find out he's not there, or that perhaps he moved on, or that he doesn't even remember you anymore..."

"It's been less than two solar cycles. Pax and I have been friends for so long, he can't just forget it all over one..." D-16 insisted, before pausing in sudden understanding.

"It's better that you confront your worries than let them haunt you for the rest of your life as you keep running away. I didn't understand that until everything started falling apart. We're gonna find Orion, and maybe later, you can also find whoever it is you're looking for."

Feeling a bit out of his depth with all this emotional talk, he shifted such that he was only supporting the toolbox with one arm, and patted the hood of the car in what he hoped was a reassuring motion with his now-free servo. He didn't quite know why he did that, especially to someone who had explicitly stated he didn't like being touched, and as he felt engines stall beneath him, he thought for a nanoklik he was going to get thrown off.

However, all that happened was that Knock Out asked another question, coming across oddly feeble. "...did you ever know of someone named Breakdown?"

"Oh, what, like the racer?" he responded in confusion. Somehow, he hadn't expected the two would be friends with one another.

"A racer?!" the automobile exclaimed, sounding equally surprised.

"Yeah, he's pretty well known?" D-16 had only ever heard of Breakdown having that occupation, so Knock Out's reaction was strange to think about. "He actually managed to win it once a while back. The Iacon 5000. I don't know if you used to have it back then, but it's a big citywide race that happens every cycle. That victory of his was kind of a huge upset for Mirage fans. The 'bait and trick' move he did to eliminate several competitors at once is still down as one of the most awesome moments in racing history."

"Huh. I will say, I didn't expect that. He was never a speedster like myself."

"It's his signature to use strategy and endurance rather than raw speed." D-16 explained. He then recalled something he heard when watching the race all those cycles ago, something that might mean a lot to a certain someone who couldn't be present. "He told everyone this in his speech that time he won: he raced even though he knew he wasn't the fastest, in order to honour the memory of a mech he lost."

The landscape in the distance was starting to look familiar, distinct structures beginning to form on the horizon, backdropped by the gradually setting sun. No more words were exchanged for a long moment, as they admired how the sky melted from a translucent blue to an alluring orange. An orange carrying only warmth, that symbolised hope rather than fury. Then, just loud enough for only him to hear, came three grateful words: "Thank you, Megatron."

---
They'd travelled for the best part of a solar-cycle, their surroundings starting to grow dark once more, illuminated only by the last fleeting rays of sunset. Even with a head-start, Orion wouldn't have yet arrived at their destination, and as such, they noticed his distinct colours amongst a series of abandoned structures a small stretch away from the entrance of the cave.

"Hey, where's the cool pink boss lady? I gotta ask her if she likes my new nickname. She seems to be good at opinions." Bumblebee wondered out loud as the rest of their companions descended softly onto organic-covered stone and transformed out of their alt-modes.

"Aww Bumblebee, aren't our opinions good enough?" Skywarp pretended to sulk as the group began to approach. "Thought we were all getting along."

"Who'd expect one mech could know so many different facts about bolts." Thundercracker said, sounding exhausted yet somewhat amused.

"If there's anyone to expect this nonsense from, it's him." Starscream grumbled, and unexpectedly, not only Shockwave but Soundwave too nodded in agreement.

D-16 didn't fail to notice, none of them looked genuinely upset. It seemed whether they wanted it or not, the core of the High Guard were slowly warming towards Bee.

As they got closer, it became apparent that Orion was in recharge, and was suspiciously alone, barely sheltered by the wall behind him and something that looked like it used to be a bridge overhead. His red plating stuck out like a sore digit against the dulled greys and unfamiliar greens of their surroundings. "Wait." Soundwave ordered, blocking their way with his arm.

Before Bee could ask for clarification, Shockwave took the initiative to explain, no doubt trying to avoid any further damage to his audials than what he'd had to put up with during the trip, "There's a high chance this could be a trap. Megatron, since this operation was your idea, you should be the one who goes ahead to investigate."

He wanted to argue that he was one of the most defenceless amongst them, and one of the Guard would be more fit for the task, but he also didn't want to show weakness in front of Starscream, and did really, really want to reunite with Orion.

"Fine," he growled, forcefully handing off Knock Out's toolbox to the nearest mech, not paying mind to who it was, "but you lot better be keeping watch for anything that might jump out at me. You still haven't shown any proof you're not a bunch of scared losers."

"As if!" Starscream screeched indignantly. "We can take down enemies before we even see them. We kept all of Cybertron safe, you think we wouldn't be able to protect one singular little mech? Get on with it!"

He felt himself get shoved forwards, and threw a look of disdain over his shoulder, giving it a quick rub to soothe the impact. Bee gave him a thumbs up. "Yeah! D! Woo! Or I guess cause you're Megatron now it should be Mega? Meggy? Megs? Go Megs! You got this!"

Turning away, he walked up to the slumbering figure, making sure to check around and above him for any potential danger amongst the eerie shells of buildings from a bygone era. How could Elita just leave Orion there by himself in the vulnerable state of recharge?!?

Unless... she hadn't. Maybe she was simply watching-

CLANG! D-16's suspicions were proven correct when a familiar fist made contact with the side of his helm.

"You have some gall trying to crawl back to us after abandoning your friend." Elita asserted right in his face, raising her voice to a point she sounded stern, but wasn't yelling.

"How could you ditch him when you two were so close nobody questioned that rumour you were dating? It's a good thing it wasn't actually true, cause Orion Pax deserves better. Do you know how upset you made him?! Just cause your big idea to get cosy with the High Guard failed, doesn't mean we'd want you here either!"

"I didn't fail." the ambushed mech tried to explain, "They're actually just behind me. I brought them so-"

"Oh, so that's how it is, is it?" the pink bot interrupted, already coming to the worst conclusion before D-16 could even finish his sentence, "Hah! No! I don't want to hear a single word from you about going back into hiding with them. You're a hypocrite, D-16! Since we've met again your actions have been nothing but horrible and impulsive, just like Orion used to be. And now after making such a big scene about those Guard dimwits being cowards, you turn around and side with them? If you like fighting for no reason so much, I'll fight you until you see reason! If you're not planning to do better, don't even think of talking to either of us again!"

"Elita-One! Will you listen to me?!" he finally snapped. His former colleague stared, cyan optics shooting daggers through him. Letting out a sharp ex-vent, she untensed her shoulders and gestured for him to continue.

"Those moments I had, that's in the past. I brought the High Guard to fight with us, for our future! To help the plan Orion made with me. How dare you think I came all this way just to harm him?!"

Elita laughed bitterly before hardening her gaze once more. "It wouldn't be the first time you've done it."

A sharp pang shot through his chest, and he regarded the femme in front of him with a combination of anger and remorse. Not wanting to lash out at such a sensitive moment, but also not knowing how else to respond, he simply looked away, observing Orion's resting form not too far in the distance. Not all things warranted immediate words or actions, after all.

"I have to admit." the more composed of the two of them said, "I didn't expect you'd actually be able to convince them. Orion couldn't, and he was always the more daring one back in the mines. You were the one who liked to fall in line. It's... unlike you to take so many risks on something that's not a given. What changed?"

"A lot." he replied almost immediately, sounding weary. He tilted his helm down to look at his servos, clenching them into fists as he had become uncomfortably accustomed to, then loosening his grip once more. "I'm not the same D-16 you knew back then. Now, I'm also Megatron, for better or for worse."

"Megatron, huh. Funny name." Elita mused as she moved to stand beside him, placing her hands on her hips and looking on at Orion.

"So, Megatron, how did you manage to get the High Guard to follow you?"

"Let's say I had a little help." he said, turning around and giving the onlookers a brief glance, "Bee's more useful than anyone ever gave him credit for. Just more reason why we need to do something about our unjust society."

"B-127? That guy? I didn't talk much with him, but he seemed like he didn't get out much."

"That is also true."

His conversational partner seemed less on-edge now, and there was a hint of a faint smile on her face. In their moment of peace, he just about registered Starscream yelling "are you done yet?!". He simply sent a glare to the crowd behind him, which seemed to get across the message.

"Orion filled me in on your plan to turn everyone against Sentinel. I think with the High Guard, we've really got a fighting chance."

He couldn't help but start to smile too, feeling genuine hope for the first time in a while. Just then, Elita's tone changed. "But you still have to answer for all the emotional hurt you've caused him!"

The larger bot crossed his arms, narrowing his optics at her as he exclaimed in displeasure. "How about the emotional hurt he's caused me?!"

"Was he the one who pushed you to the floor cause he lost his temper? Cause from what I was told it was the other way around." Elita reminded coldly.

D-16 scowled, knowing she was right, but he would never be prepared to admit it. "Since when did you care?" he asked her flatly.

"Actually, I've found recently I care more than I thought." she declared, circling back around to face him, pointing a digit at his chest. "But that's not the point. The question is whether you care."

"Of course I do!!" he instantly proclaimed, leaning towards her in an almost threatening way. Who did she think she was to question his and Orion's relationship? She'd always insisted that she had no time for friendships. It seemed that they'd both changed quite a bit as of late.

"Fine. I'll give you one more chance to prove it. Do. Better." Elita warned, accentuating her point by slapping a fist against her other palm, unfazed by D-16's provocative stance.

"I don't have to prove myself to you anymore, Elita. Your days as mining captain are over. You're not my superior."

"Maybe not. But you know what I am? I'm friends with Orion Pax. And he would never let a friend stick around someone that would hurt him. So I'm gonna look out for him the same way."

For a moment, it seemed like D-16 would snap at this, would shove Elita away harshly, grab Orion and leave her behind amongst the organic mess. She seemed dead-set on acting as a potential problem for him.

However.

He'd already vowed to no longer run from his problems, nor act against Orion's wishes.

If the two really had struck up a genuine friendship as she said, then, fine. He'd give her a chance too.

"Thanks." he said. Surprise briefly flashed across Elita's faceplate, before softening into a peaceful, confident gaze, and D-16 mirrored her expression. "For being there with him when I wasn't. But now, it's my turn. I've got a promise to keep."

Elita smiled, really smiled this time. She went over to gently shake Orion out of recharge.

"Wakey-wakey, go-bot. You've got a special visitor."

"...D-16?" a drowsy voice whispered as bright-blue optics fluttered open, "Am I seeing things or did you actually come back?"

D-16 was almost certain he was grinning audial to audial and couldn't do anything to stop it, nor did he want to. "No Orion Pax Master Plan is complete without me nagging you about how dangerous it is." he teased as he reached out to help the newly awakened bot up. "I've got your back no matter what. That's Rule Number One."

Before he knew it, he was being pulled into a soothing embrace, and for a moment, the world stood still. It wasn't common for the two of them to hug - they usually just stuck to fistbumps and casual touches here and there, but in this moment, it felt like they had been in each other's arms for lifetimes, like they were always meant to fit together. Then, a wave of heat rushed through him as self-awareness overtook the comfort and relief of reunion, and he remembered his intimate feelings towards Orion may not be reciprocated, feelings that he hadn't admitted to himself the last time the two of them were this physically close. Despite so, his servos seemed to be acting on his spark's orders rather than his processor's, and refused to let go.

"There's so much I've got to fill you in on. Elita and I were walking across here when the ground started moving by itself, near-death experience, what a thrill!" Orion laughed gently against D-16's chest, who chuckled in return at his beloved friend's idea of fun, "Heh... but what's been up with you, D? Actually, how did you even find me?! And don't just tell me that your 'best friend senses' were tingling."

D-16 sighed, finally finding the strength to reluctantly push himself away. He steeled his gaze as best as he could, knowing that there was another lingering question that even the outspoken Orion couldn't bring himself to address directly.

"Pax. I'm so glad to be back out here with you, but we need to talk about what happened."

Instantly, the atmosphere changed, and it felt like the air had become several degrees cooler just from the loss of Orion's warm smile.

"...are you sure you're ready to talk about it?" Orion asked hesitantly. "Just, was kinda hoping we could have a few more moments of niceness before we moved to the 'here's all the ways you were stupid' bit."

D-16 averted his gaze, anger and remorse waging a fierce battle within his processor. Why would he have brought it up if he wasn't ready? Did all those cycles they'd spent together, the unspoken trust between them, mean less to Orion than the outbursts he had in moments of emotion? Did he think he was just telling him off to make him feel bad? No! Just that one little statement was enough to set his processor astray again, and it was endlessly frustrating. He felt frustration at caring for someone who didn't see things his way, didn't understand why he did the things he did... made the mistakes he did. He felt frustrated at getting frustrated, and he supposed that was exactly why it was essential for them to have this conversation.

"...I'll try my best not to get mad at you." he settled on. No false promises, but still a pledge of effort. They could get through this, like they'd gotten through everything else.

Orion ex-vented audibly, regarding the mech before him in a way that almost seemed affectionate. It was probably just because he had been separated from a close friend for longer than normal, rather than a sign of anything deeper, but D-16 still felt his spark do a somersault in his chest.

"I guess I can take that for now." Orion responded, holding his smile for a few more nanokliks before it faded into something more solemn. There was a long pause after that, and D-16 briefly glanced back over where the crowd stood, seeing that Elita had headed over to join the High Guard and was currently being hounded with questions from Bee. He realised Soundwave was regarding him rather intensely, noticeable even with the opaque visor, and, unsure of what that meant but having no interest in pondering further upon it, he returned his gaze back to Orion.

"Okay, so you want to talk." the beautiful mech stated, leaning against the wall behind him. His pose would seem casual to anyone else, but D-16 could see right through to the anxiousness hidden beneath that neutral expression. "That's cool, I can talk. Do you remember that time on the roof, before the Iacon 5000, when we talked like this?"

"Yeah, how could I forget how I stopped you from signing up to the crash course for getting dismembered?" D-16 replied naturally, despite himself. It was too easy to fall back into that familiar rhythm, of lightening the atmosphere by trading jabs at each other's expense, of that little push and pull that helped define their friendship.

Though unlike usual, Orion didn't laugh at the attempt at a joke, instead hanging his helm low to avoid direct eye contact. It was hard to read his expression like this, and his tone of voice was equally hard to discern. "I couldn't stop thinking about what you told me back then. You said you were worried you wouldn't be able to save me."

"I get it," D-16 said, trying to sound as calm and understanding as he could manage, but instead coming across rather blunt and impatient, "you've survived these solar-cycles out here, you don't need saving-"

"No, that's not it!" Sounding abnormally agitated, Orion seemed to flinch at his own outburst, turning away to face the overgrown tiles behind him and resetting his vocaliser.

"What I'm trying to say is," he began, looking back towards D-16 with a shakily plastered smile betrayed by dampening optics, "it was never just you having my back, D. We always promised to look out for each other.
But now, I feel the same as how you did. I'm worried I won't be able to save you. You've been acting strange, violent, spiralling into something, I'm scared of losing you! I'm scared of you losing yourself, I-I'm scared I'll become scared of you!"

The desperately yelled words reverberated against the walls.

It hurt.


It hurt that Orion thought about him that way. It hurt that Orion had ended up in such a state of mind to think that in the first place. His optics felt fuzzy, and he felt an odd sense that they were rapidly shifting between different shades against his will. Orange. Red. Orange. Yellow. He didn't want to become someone Orion feared. He'd already become that someone. How could Orion criticise him like this? How could D-16 have made him worry so much? Orion's actions made him feel abandoned. His own actions were a form of abandonment. He just wished the one he loved could truly understand him. He just wished he could truly understand the one he loved.

The facade that Orion had attempted to put on fully shattered, and his entire faceplate crumpled into a pained expression, his frame vibrated softly, vocals unsteady. "You probably hate me right now, don't you. I left. I've been naive and irrational, just like you told me off for being. I was just trying to do the right thing, I thought if I could build the world we dreamt of, then you wouldn't have any reason to lash out anymore. That's why I chose to be out here, that's why I kept believing in the Matrix, but... in the process, I stopped believing in you. I'm sorry... Tell me that you hate me D, go on, tell me that you hate me."

D-16's spark felt like it was getting torn in all directions, splintering and aching and thumping against his chassis. To hear a confirmation straight from the source that Orion really considered giving up on him after all, that... it made him feel so broken. Over the cycles he'd given Orion second chances that turned into third chances that turned into infinite, he'd be exhausted and irritated but he knew now it was his love for Orion that meant he could never give up. His worldview had been so drastically changed over such a short time, he was struggling to cope, how could Orion have considered to leave him alone at a time like this? He'd only ever thought about the revolution as something they'd strive for together, but Orion went off to do everything all on his own and risked his own life and couldn't he see that he cared about him too?!

"Fine!" D-16 shouted, "You know what? You're right, Orion Pax! I do hate you!"

Tears welled in both of his optics, and he made no effort to stop them from escaping. He stepped to close the distance between them, his thoughts spilling out of his mouth as if his processor had begun to overflow.

"I hate that you never seem to hate.
I hate how you're so kind and forgiving and willing to believe that anything can change peacefully and everything can be perfect.
I hate your fragging sparkling optics and your stupid hopeful smile and your idealistic speeches and how you never fail to linger on my Primus-dammed processor against everything that my logic circuits advise.
I hate how you always used to act on your impulse, but you look so disappointed in me when I do it. I hate it! All I ever did was try to do what I think is right, too! I hate how you always couldn't see how much I do for you! For our cause!"

As D-16 lurched forward, he trapped Orion flat against the wall, resting one servo on the uneven surface and grabbing the trembling mech's arm with the other. He stared at him right in the optics, as if he could transmit all his passion and fury and the true depth of his emotions just like that.

"I stuck by you no matter how much you screwed up, but why is it that as soon as I make some mistakes, you can't trust me anymore? I hate that I always end up being the bad guy! When I always went along with your plans no matter how dumb they sounded cause I care about you! I came to find you because I care about you!! And you think I actually hate you?
How could I, Orion?! How could you think I hate you, when I love you so much!"

The reflection of twilight shimmered across two connected frames, highlighting the dampened metal where optical fluid had formed streaks. The entire surface seemed silent in that moment, save for the deafening roar of twin sets of fans running in overtime, the sound indicating they were spinning just slightly out of sync.

Neither of the entangled mechs made any large movements. The servo on Orion's arm was now gripping so tightly, if D-16 had the strength of a cogged bot he would be sure to leave a dent. Someone was shaking, someone was venting heavily as though they had a need to pant for air - maybe it was both of them.

D-16 took in Orion's expression before him. Those precious blue optics of his were currently blasted wide, and it was evident he was completely stunned by the past exchange. It was almost like he had just heard something shocking like never before-

Then, everything D-16 just said hit him all at once.

Oh.

Chapter Text

On the unforgiving surface of Cybertron, amidst hidden conflicts that were unravelling around them at every instant, two mechs stood frozen within a delicate moment, a moment where none of the perils and injustices and other miserable constants of their misfortunate existences held any importance. The only matter of focus was one another.

D-16 had spoken, the words had pushed against the walls of his mind, ricocheting across every component of his frame, fighting to be freed, until the metaphorical stopper on his emotions had been pulled and everything had poured out all at once. All the pain, yearning, resentment, affection, frustration, everything, everything, culminating in a simple statement. The crux of it all, the true foundation of Rule Number One laid bare - 'I love you so much'.

"Orion, I didn't mean-" he began, stumbling back as the weight of his earlier words came crashing down on him all at once, leaving the mech that was in his grasp moments ago still immobile against the wall in apparent shock.

Though as he regained his footing, something different dawned across his tear-dampened faceplate in the fading light, a look of determination. The onset of night had brought along with it a moderately chilling breeze, helping to calm down his circuits that were otherwise threatening to overheat.

"- No." he corrected, amber optics glowing bright, "I did mean it. I just didn't mean to tell you like this-"

It was Orion's turn to step forward and reach out to him, and just the smallest contact was enough to quell the words from his intake, his glossa suddenly feeling like it had tied itself into a knot.

"When you say you love me." his best friend, his adored friend, his beloved hopefully more than friend interrupted shakily, all-but-stammering, putting visible effort into sounding cohesive after the unexpected confession, "Do you mean, in the friendship way?"

As soon as that was said, Orion seemed to find some sort of amusement amongst the syllables, chuckling in a strange way to himself, almost seeming bitter about the prospect, D-16 dared to think. "Actually, why am I asking? We've been best friends for so long, I get what you're saying. I appreciate you too, buddy. Even if it doesn't always seem that way, I really do." Orion said, putting on a faint smile, but with that, those gemstone-like optics of his seemed to lose a bit of their glimmer.

At this point, D-16 had two choices. Take the out that Orion was offering him, laugh it off, and bring everything back to the closest approximation of 'normal' they could manage (with all things considered). Briefly regarding the group in the distance, he considered that given all she'd told him not that long ago, Elita might actually be relieved should he decide to keep his distance - there was less risk he could hurt Orion again this way.
That being said, she was just as likely to express some shade of disappointment in him for backing down rather than remaining truthful... and he'd most certainly be disappointed in himself.

The alternative, he thought, looking back at the object of his affections, was that maybe, despite all the things that went wrong before, that are still going wrong around them, that they need to work on together, he could still get what he recently realised he always wanted. That maybe... they both wanted.

It was a question that didn't need answering. Closing the gap between their servos, he intertwined Orion's digits with his own, holding on with such a tightness that made it seem like he feared what would happen if he let go. As he locked their optics with a force of strong affection, he made a simple declaration, honest and bare and so ridiculous, just as the two of them had always been.

"Pax." D-16 said, "I wanna kiss you. On the lips."

"Oh. Right." Orion stated blankly, before tilting his helm down to consider their conjoined servos, not seeming to have fully processed what he just heard.

The moment was allowed to sit between them for several nanokliks, the cool wind still dancing around their frames in the growing darkness.

Then, all of a sudden, the shorter mech's sheepish expression turned focused as he snapped his head right back up in realisation, optics piercing and wide.

"Wait!" he practically yelled, "you do?!"

"Yeah." D admitted awkwardly, his prior boldness diluting a fair amount thanks to the innocently adorable expression he was faced with, as he couldn't help but feel a little bit flustered as well. Okay, maybe he didn't need to be quite that direct. Despite the slight self-conciousness seeping through, however, he refused to avert his optics, wanting almost desperately to find out how his admission would be received, scanning Orion's faceplate for any sign of rejection - a rejection that wasn't as inevitable as he had anticipated not even a solar-cycle ago.

Orion, for that matter, was currently rubbing the back of his head, turning slightly to the side, yet still intermittently flitting his optics back towards D-16.

"I... uhh... same?" he choked out, accompanied by the loud rush of his fans increasing in speed.

Same.

He felt the same?

He felt the same!

He felt the same he felt the same he felt the same he felt the same he-

"Really?!" D-16 exclaimed in delightful disbelief, moving one of his servos over his chest, lest his spark try to escape from his chassis, as it sure felt like it was making a valiant attempt at that right now. Then, lowering his voice to an emotional whisper, he added, "Even now?" 

"Yeah." Orion affirmed in turn, giving a lopsided, goofy grin that D-16 couldn't help but return. With a squeeze to his friend's- his partner's? his lover's?!- servo, he reached out with his free servo to softly brush against that charming faceplate, before gently tilting his helm upwards towards the night sky.

"The constellations were waiting for us." he said, admiring how those stars that looked so small could nevertheless sparkle so brightly. They glittered and glistened so beautifully, reminding him of the light that shined through Orion's hopeful optics.

"So..." the starlike mech was saying, "you know, I've felt this way about you for longer than I wanna admit. I really just thought I didn't stand a chance."

"Pax..." D-16 smiled, shaking his helm, "did you ever see me doing a fraction of the stuff I did for you for anyone else?"

"Well, um, there was..." Orion put on an expression of mock-seriousness, looking as if he was playing back various memories in his mind's eye, but even after a few nanokliks, he didn't find what he was looking for. "...Okay, fair." he eventually agreed, a happier look returning to his faceplate, "but I didn't wanna be delusional, you always tell me off for not being realistic..."

"It was never me telling you off, you idiot, I was worrying about you! It was frustrating seeing you always get yourself in trouble!" D-16 realised he was coming close to shouting, and let out an ex-vent, softening his tone. "I like my Orion here with me, not broken into pieces and sent to the incinerator."

"My Orion, huh?" the mech in question teased, leaning forwards to give the other mech a cheeky tap on the nose. Before D-16 could try to say anything else, however, he continued, placing that servo on his shoulder, ever affectionate, "Your Orion. My Megatron."

Then, the two had ended up in each other's arms once more, drawn together as if magnetised, holding close and never wanting to let go of this fragile, precious moment, never wanting to let go of each other. Maybe Orion's constant optimism had never been misguided. Maybe things really could always be this sweet. Nothing would be perfect, they never were, but here, in the embrace of the one he loved, D-16 was overcome with a sense that things were going to work out in the end. They'd come so far. The two of them, together.

"I'm sorry for leaving you behind." Orion whispered right beside D-16's audial, nuzzling his helm against the silver mech's shoulder.

"...I'm sorry for making you leave." D-16 replied, and found he really did mean it.

Orion leaned back from their hug, putting a servo's width of distance between their face plates, but still maintaining their hold on one another. His gaze flicked down for a nanoklik, before he let out a deep ex-vent and looked back into deep gold optics resolutely.

"I need some time to think about this- - is what I'd say if this was anyone else. But it's us, D. I just have this feeling- I know this is right, I want to be your sparkmate, will you let me...?"

D-16 was beaming so hard, the brightness of his expression would make the sun look dim in comparison. He could sense he probably looked several levels goofier than he would ever normally be, but really couldn't find it in himself to care. "This is the first time I've been a fan of you 'just having a feeling'," he told his new sparkmate- his sparkmate!! "Guess I'm lucky it's finally working out well for me."

"So, uh, can I kiss you silly till you're a puddle of goo on the floor now then, or..."

"I'm glad you're thinking to ask, but I think it's pretty clear what I want." D-16 chuckled.

Orion grinned adorably- but wait, oh no, he was sporting that devious look he had when he was scheming something impulsive, and in one swift motion, suddenly D-16 was being spun around such that their positions were swapped from earlier and now he was the one with his back to the wall. His partner leaned his weight into him, looking immensely pleased.

"Wow, you did miss me, huh?!" D-16 commented, feeling as if in a dream.

"Like mad." Orion said, sounding utterly giddy, and then their lips finally met.

And met, and met, and met, again and again, kisses that were undeniably amateur yet filled with enough passion and energy to set the entire planet alight several times over as a testament to their love. They melted into one another, like they had been waiting cycles to do just this, because really, they had, slowly sliding down the wall as their blazingly warm frames intertwined, servos roaming as if to map every single piece of plating, every joint, every mechanism.

"Oh, Pax..." D-16 moaned deliriously, before Orion's soft dermas were swooping back in to capture his once more- -

"HEY! We're still here, you know!" Starscream's impatient screech cut through the moment like a scalding knife. D-16 turned towards the source of the outburst, only to find all of his travelling companions had walked right to them whilst they were... distracted, and mortifyingly, had probably heard their sappy sweet nothings to one another and watched them kiss like there was no tomorrow.

Orion, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed, only moving to hold his partner even tighter, keeping them firmly against each other's chestplates. "What, are you jealous?" the dauntless mech teased.

"Why would I be jealous of your sappy nonsense? I get plenty more action than this." Starscream snapped back, quick with a rebuttal, crossing his arms defensively.

Someone else was equally quick with a response in turn. "Statement: contradictory to reality."

If it wasn't for the sudden flurry of movement before him, one wouldn't think that Soundwave was about to get punched in the face. Despite his superior's fist following a certain trajectory towards his visor, the mech still didn't even flinch, not even as Knock Out warned that they didn't have the resources to repair such a component. But perhaps the calm mech had already calculated the entire situation and predicted the outcome - the hit didn't actually connect, and instead, Starscream merely turned away, still clenching his servo as he muttered something inaudibly, grinding his dentae in annoyance.

Besides him, or more accurately, below him, the comparatively tiny Bumblebee made his best effort to reach up and pat the insulted commander on the shoulder. Noticing the failed attempt at reassurance and Starscream's disdainful reception towards it, the other two Seekers exchanged amused looks.

"Oh Screamer, it's not your fault all your chances got blown up in the wa- ow!" Skywarp winced, cutting off the end of the sentence after receiving a warning kick from Thundercracker, who had enough sense about him to know not to further provoke Starscream, even if he seemed inexplicably out of the mood for beating up his subordinates at the moment.

"We should make haste," Shockwave declared, unentertained by the antics, "Megatron, I take it you're all sorted here now?"

Upon hearing the name he had given D-16, Orion whipped his helm back towards his partner, optics practically sparkling. "Wait, they call you Megatron?!" he exclaimed, evidently taken by surprise.

Then, D-16 was being kissed again, and he wasn't even quite sure why, but he wasn't going to start complaining, not when it felt like he had found somewhere to call home inside Orion's sweet embrace. Almost intoxicated by the feeling, he nearly didn't register various sounds of whooping and hollering, no doubt initiated by Bee, though it also distinctly sounded like multiple voices were cheering along at the unabashed display of affection.

"Are you two done now?" Shockwave asked when the new couple finally parted once more, blatantly fed up with what to him was probably no more than emotional nonsense.

One of the lovestruck fools ex-vented, not intending it as the dreamy sigh that it came out as. "Yeah, for now." he said. The purple mech only acknowledged this response by shaking his helm and turning away.

"I'm happy for you." Elita stepped forward to say, "So now we're all together in this, we'll have more hands on deck to search for the Matrix. I'm feeling ready to do this!"

There had been so many changes in such little time, so much still yet to properly, truly process. There was so much fatigue that could settle in at any moment, both physical and mental, equally devastating. There were so many worries whizzing around, overwhelming in their numbers, able to carry anyone up and away into a realm of despair.

But there was also the servo within his own, tethering him in place, maintaining his grip on his mind so it wouldn't float up into the atmosphere and burst under the heat and pressure of the unknown. Somehow, after all this time of running after Orion as if chasing an electric current down a wire, now, that same mech helped make him feel grounded, aiding him against blowing his fuse once more.

He couldn't promise he would never be overcome by anger again, but he had a reason to try. His sparkmate, the one who always found a way to make things feel like they could be alright.

"You know what, Elita?" D-16 said, standing hand-in-hand with Orion Pax, surrounded by newfound friends and allies, the sky alight with the glimmering stars of hope, "I feel like I'm ready for anything, too."