Chapter Text
Optimus was in the middle of a casual drive across the open roads of the mid-western United States. Ratchet had bridged him out here, to the middle of nowhere, so Optimus could have some time to think and be alone.
His only clue that something wasn’t right with the universe was when the Matrix gave a weird shuddery tingle. He paused and pulled over rather than potentially cause an accident. It hadn’t hurt, but it was definitely an odd sensation.
That was when he saw it. A jet passing by overhead that was alien in design, but clearly not the Megatron that Optimus knew. For one, he wasn’t transmitting the spark signal that Optimus had memorized and would know to the depths of his own spark.
While Optimus watched, the jet circled around him, then came back for another pass. Optimus braced himself, ready for an attack, but instead, the jet descended and transformed within feet of the roadway, only to become a tank of all things.
“Identify yourself,” Optimus demanded as he popped out of alt-mode and leveled his blasters at the unidentified Cybertronian triple-changer.
“You are not my brother,” the mech growled as his cannon swung Optimus’ direction. He didn’t fire, however. “Who are you?”
Optimus inclined his helm. “Optimus Prime. And I believe I asked you a question, stranger.”
Rumbling laughter echoed from the mech before he suddenly transformed to alt-mode, looming over Optimus. He was a mech constructed of sharp angles and spikes, far more dangerous looking than Megatron. He stormed closer, so many gaps in his plating as to be unsafe, but still clearly Cybertronian.
“I am Lord High Protector Megatron,” he snarled as he stalked closer, every step filled with menace. “And while you resemble him in theory, you are not Optimus Prime. For he is my brother and my spark does not recognize yours.”
The Matrix gave another pulse. Optimus was no fool. If Unicron could rest at the core of Earth, then it stood to reason, this mech was exactly as he claimed. Optimus had seen stranger things.
“You do not belong here,” Optimus said. “Return to wherever it is you came.”
“Not until I find the Allspark. Where have you hidden it, false Prime?” the Lord High Protector Megatron demanded and he took a swipe at Optimus, one Optimus was quick to avoid.
He sent an urgent request for backup to Ratchet in the next ventilation. His communicator spat silence. He was being jammed.
The Matrix tingled, lurching in his chassis.
“Get away from him!”
Optimus’ optics cycled wide as another grey mech appeared out of nowhere, tackling the Protector Megatron. His spark throbbed and of course, Optimus recognized this mech. He would recognize his Megatron anywhere. The sharp angles and spikes was all the indicator he needed.
The two Megatrons went tumbling across the highway, a clatter of metal on metal that was alarmingly loud. Surely they'd attract the attention of the humans soon.
“Pretender!” Optimus’ Megatron roared.
“Foolish child!” the Protector snarled in return.
Optimus stared at both of them, until it occurred to him that he should flee until he was out from under the comm blackout. He needed to contact Ratchet. He needed assistance. He needed answers.
The Matrix buzzed and tingled, like an electric shock only with a tint of pleasure in the aftermath. It startled Optimus, nearly causing him to stumble as he turned to flee.
There was another silver mech behind him. He was broad and blocky with what appeared to be a cannon barrel poking up from behind his left shoulder. Treads suggested a tank alt-mode. He had looping decorations on his chestplate. But most curious was the Autobot symbol set between them. An Autobot symbol below Decepticon red optics.
“Who are you?” Optimus demanded, uncertain if he should lift his weapons or not. The mech’s appearance suggested he was a Megatron, but the Autobot symbol suggested he was a friend.
“Megatron of Tarn,” he said with a tilt of his helm. He looked down at his hands and then back up. “You… resemble Optimus Prime. But you are not he. Where am I…? How did I…?” He paused, anger taking over the confusion. “If this is one of Rodimus’ pranks, I will not be so easy to forgive again.”
Optimus shook his helm and cringed as the crashing sounds behind him grew louder. “This, I am afraid, is something beyond either of our control. Or your friend, Rodimus.”
He chanced a glance over his shoulder. The Protector Megatron was larger, obviously older, but he was holding his own against Optimus’ Megatron. They were both dripping energon to the ground: pink and purple respectively. Neither had noticed that Optimus wasn’t paying them a bit of attention anymore.
“What is going on here?” Megatron of Tarn demanded.
Optimus sighed and resigned himself to remaining. Perhaps it was only a weird dream. “I do not know,” he said and pointed over his shoulder. “The large one is Lord High Protector Megatron. The smaller one is Megatron of Kaon, the Megatron of this universe.”
Megatron of Tarn smacked himself in the face. “Not another universe-crossing escapade!” he moaned aloud. “Maybe I should be blaming Brainstorm.”
Optimus stared at him. First a Rodimus and now a Brainstorm. What kind of mechs did this Megatron travel around with?
“Why of all the planets in all the universe do I find myself here?” A disdainful, disgusted tone rose up from Optimus’ right and when he shifted, he saw yet another grey mech, this time accented in purple, with a cannon on his forearm, much like Optimus’ own Megatron.
His lips were twisted in a scowl, fangs visible behind them. His helm came to a point not unlike Optimus’ Megatron.
Optimus sighed and rubbed his forehelm. “Let me guess,” he said. “You’re Megatron.”
“And so am I,” Megatron of Tarn said with a wave of his hand and a tilt of his helm toward the two Megatrons still posturing at each other. “And so are they.”
The new Megatron blinked at both of them and lifted a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I am afraid to know what is going on here,” he said. “Though it is a significant improvement over imprisonment beneath the Autobot citadel.”
“The Autobots are ruthless, immortal beings. There is no hope to save them.” Optimus heard the click of a blaster being engaged behind him. “Turn around, villain, so that you might die with honor.”
He held up his hands and turned slowly. “I am not the Optimus you think I am, Megatron,” he said, assuming, and careful to keep from making any sudden movements. “Surely you have noticed that there is something strange going on.”
The Megatron behind him was different from all the rest. He was mostly dark grey and white with a red Decepticon brand on the front and twin cannons on his shoulder. His optics were also a bright, Autobot blue.
“Put your weapon down, you fool,” the once imprisoned Megatron said from behind Optimus. “There are other matters at stake here than the war from whence you came.”
Blue optics flicked back and forth, from Optimus to Megatron of Tarn to the once imprisoned Megatron and then the still fighting Megatrons off to the side.
“I do not understand. What is this madness?” Blue-opticked Megatron lowered his gun, absolutely bewildered. “One moment I am aberth and another, I am here.”
Optimus lowered his arms. “That is what we are all trying to figure out.”
Optimus gasped as the Matrix pulsed again, harder this time, and nearly doubled over. He clutched at his chestplate, stars dancing behind his optics.
“I am Megatron!”
The roar echoed across the landscape. The ground was peppered with blaster fire and if not for the blue-opticked Megatron tackling him down, Optimus would have been hit. Optimus’ thoughts spun. The Matrix settled, with an almost self-satisfied hum.
“Great,” he heard Megatron of Tarn grumble. “Another one.”
“You will all bow before my might!” the flying Megatron cackled and more blasterfire peppered the air.
Optimus managed to roll out from under blue-opticked Megatron and look up to see a blocky, grey Megatron flying through the air above them on anti-gravs. His raspy vocals accompanied each new strafing run from his arm-mounted fusion cannon.
“Oh Primus,” Optimus groaned. “What did I do to deserve this?”
“Should we… do something about him?” Blue-opticked Megatron asked.
Former prisoner Megatron harrumphed. “In the category of things that are not my problem, I do believe that lunatic counts as one.”
“I am the only Megatron who matters!” Flying Megatron continued.
Six. Six Megatrons.
Surely that was against some kind of cosmic law?
What was he supposed to do now?
Within his chassis, the Matrix stirred again, and Optimus swore the cursed thing cackled at him.
There can be only one, it whispered.
And then it fell silent.
Doomed. Optimus was, no hyperbole intended, doomed.
****