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Chapter Text

Far into the War, both Autobots and Decepticons agreed on one thing: This war won't end, not as long as the Allspark stayed at the Center of Cybertron. Optimus Prime and Megatron both set out to retrieve it, not knowing they'd meet each other there. Optimus raised the Allspark from the core, and got ready to leave, but that's where Megatron swooped in to stop him.

Drawing his axe, Optimus said, "Why, Megatron? Why go to such lengths to rule Cybertron? What could have possibly sparked this desire?"

Megatron cracked his neck and said, still smiling, "To be honest, I don't know anymore. These past few years just kinda blurred together into just this amazing feeling of fighting. I might've had a good reason at some point, but it's gone now. Now, I just want to win."

Optimus clutched the Allspark tighter. "What is this to you, a game? The future of our planet is at stake! You're doing it because it's fun? What kind of a leader are you? You have an army that looks up to you!"

"Army shmarmy. I couldn't care less about any of 'em. This is just a planet-scale gladiatorial match to me, and I intend to do what I always do: kill until I win. So, if you'll please hand over the Allspark, I'll let you leave here and kill you later. How's that?"

"I'd neve-"

Optimus couldn't even finish his second word when Megatron dashed at him and stabbed his shoulder, grabbing the Allspark at the same time.

Optimus quickly regained balance and gripped the Allspark, both of them holding on like their lives depended on it, because they did.

"Let go, Megatron, you don't deserve the Allspark..."

"Oh? And who are you to judge? Last I checked, Primus decided that, and he's right here. Let's ask him what he thinks!" Megatron said as he pulled harder.

They both pulled, and pulled, not intending to let go. All of a sudden, a cracking noise could be heard. They both looked at the Allspark, and it appeared to be stretching. Before either of them could react to it, the Allspark split in half. Optimus Prime and Megatron were sent flying away from each other as the halves of the Allspark reformed into identical shapes. Megatron's glowed purple, while Optimus's glowed blue. They looked at them and each other in disbelief. This couldn't have been anticipated in a million years, but it's happened.

"Uhh... What?" Megatron said, dumbfounded.

Optimus stood up. "I- I don't know. Are there two Allsparks now? No, that's not it. The tale of Cybertron... I remember now. Unicron was sealed inside Primus, so..."

"You're saying we just separated them?" Said Megatron, staring deeply into the purple and gold mass in front of him. "So, this must be Unicron's..." He said as a smile started forming on his face.

"Whatever you're planning, I must ask you to think about it, this could-"

Megatron suddenly shoved the Antispark into his chest, grinning widely as his smile-extenders (the mustache looking spikes on his face) turned on as he felt the power surging through him. He stood up and looked at Optimus as he said, "Ahh... You're lucky I'm a man of my word, Prime. You'd be dead if I wasn't. I could kill you with the flick of a finger, I feel, but I won't. This isn't the most cinematic place to kill you, either."

With that, he turned around and headed to the Well of Sparks to leave for Darkmount, satisfied. Optimus stayed put, trying to understand what happened. He also eventually ascended to the surface. Both of them went to tell the others what happened, not knowing the true ramifications of splitting the Allspark. The Autobots labelled their half the True Spark, and the Decepticons called it the Antispark.

The Allspark was the center for all Cybertronian life. Death meant nothing to a Transformer before this event; their spark would return to the Allspark, get a body built around it, and be good as new in a day or so. But since the Allspark was torn in half, there was no place for wayward Sparks to go. This meant that for now, when a Cybertronian dies, they die. For good. This event is known as the Great Split, or the Fall of Cybertron. Either way, this is when the War went from a silly skirmish between immortals to a real war with real costs.

Chapter Text

Bludgeon was the last Kikai Kenshi, a clan of Cybertronian swordsmen who practiced an art of the same name. He stayed away from the War, but was plagued by thoughts of what his pupils were doing with the legendary sword art. He was meditating in his room, though some people would argue he just sleeps sitting up. He opened his eyes slowly; he wasn't alone anymore.

"Hm. You got some serious spacial awareness, Bludgeon." Megatron said, leaning against the doorframe.

"Megatron... What could you possibly want now? I felt what happened. What I can only assume you did."

Bludgeon took to his feet and turned to face Megatron, who he secretly thanked Primus for keeping the warmonger shorter than him. His orange eyes were hardly visible through his mask, a skull of an ancient Insecticon.

"You're a monster. Why have you come here?"

Megatron shrugged and glanced around the room, admiring the trinkets, trophies, and other things the Kikai Kenshi were so famous for collecting.

"Just wanted to stop by. I enjoy the company. Besides, I want to resubmit my proposition, Bludgeon, The Exterminator."

Bludgeon punched Megatron in the face for that. A risky move, but Megatron paid no mind. He simply cracked his neck and straightened his posture once again. His smile remaining ever-present.

"Don't call me that, it's not who I am..." Bludgeon said solemnly, full of regret.

"Ahh, but it's who you were, and who you still can be. We fought side by side, remember? You were ruthless, phew. Put me in my place. Countless Quintessons falling left and right..."

"Shut up..."

"So, soo many lovely bodies strewn against the walls, their blood oozing down your wonderful blade. It was glorious."

"Stop! You say one more word of my mistakes and you will regret it."

Megatron paused, his grin shrinking a little. 

"And I believe I will, but that's later, this is now."

Bludgeon wasted no time taking Megatron outside, though the wall would need some fixing. He drew his sword, or what was left of it. He broke it in half after the Quintesson Invasion, but kept the bottom half, and used it as a lesson for his future students. "A broken sword still cuts," he'd say. Though he never thought he'd be doing any cutting again.

Megatron planted his heels in the ground and stood straight up without even using his hands, his smile wider than before. He clearly wanted this. He drew his forearm blades and got ready for the battle to commence.

Bludgeon was about as punctual as Megatron when it came to fighting. They both attacked at the same time, striking and slashing wherever they could. Megatron could tell from a mile away that Bludgeon was fighting defensively and was increasingly annoyed by it.

"What's wrong? Scared of missing a shot?"

Megatron shouted as he went for a jab at Bludgeon's side. Big mistake. Bludgeon turned, narrowly avoiding the blade, and slammed Megatron's arm into the ground, nearly breaking it in two. Megatron wailed in pain, but quickly pulled away, leaving his arm behind.

"It appears I'm unarmed and at your mercy, Bludgeon," Megatron said with an eerie smile.

"I'm not so sure I believe that. My informant told me what you did. You tore the Allspark in two, claiming the essence of Unicron for yourself. I don't know what the Chaos Bringer has given you, but I doubt-"

BLAM

Bludgeon froze. He looked down at his chest. A hole was burned through it, making the dojo behind him clearly visible. He looked back at Megatron, who was holding the fusion cannon he usually had stored inside his body, angrily.

"You... Piece... Of... Shit..."

Megatron laughed, placing the cannon on his back and retracting it inside.

"Big talk, bud. All's fair in love and war, and we're very much at war."

Bludgeon fell to his knees, his vibrant orange eyes fading to black. He tipped over and landed on the ground with a thud.

Megatron, arm already growing back, smiled and turned away.

"You could've just said no."

Chapter Text

"Dammit!"

Optimus Prime slammed his fist against the wall. The realization of what he and Megatron had done to the Allspark had hit, and it didn't settle well.

"We were already losing... What now? Megatron's forces will mow us down like blades of grass."

He turned to the other Autobots that gathered around him. Everyone in Iacon Central Base had shown up.

"I'm... Sorry. All of you, I'm sorry. I roped you all into something that should've never happened in the first place. Unless something changes, I can't guarantee anyone here surviving, even if the Allspark is returned to the Well."

The Autobots looked at each other, some of them murmuring to one another. Optimus took a breath, and they all silenced.

"I shouldn't be the one to lead you, I haven't done anything to prove I deserve the Matrix."

He sat in a nearby chair and opened his chest, laying the Matrix of Leadership in his hands. He sighed, his eyes dimming slightly as he placed the Matrix in his lap and rested his elbows on his knees and holding his head up with his hands.

"I will consider another person to lead the Autobots, you're all dismissed."

But nobody moved. Noone was sure what to do. Their leader, the reason they fight, is stepping down? This isn't right. They had to make it right. One in particular was going to.

"This isn't the Optimus I know."

Elita-1 said as she stepped forward, crouching in front of him.

"Things will change, it's what we do. You changed into a Prime."

She smiled and placed a hand on his cheek. He looked up at her, and she gently rubbed his chin with her thumb.

"But not all primes can do what I need to do," Optimus protested, "I'm a librarian, for crying out loud. I sort books, not command armies."

Elita retaliated immediately.

"And I'm a housewife," she said confidently. "You don't see me complaining."

Optimus's mouth opened a little in surprise, but he was interrupted by someone in the crowd before he could talk.

"I'm a news anchor!"

Silence followed, but more people joined in.

"I'm a graffiti artist!"

"I'm a mediocre drummer!"

"I'm unemployed!"

Optimus sat up as Elita turned around and stood next to him, smiling.

"I'm a meteorologist!"

"I'm a miner!"

"We're street racers!" shouted two voices at once.

He finally stood up as the crowd proclaimed all their generic, unimportant jobs. Strangely, he understood what they were saying; they're all people, not soldiers. However, right now, they are soldiers. They're combat medics, weapons manufacturers, strategists, everything an army needs, but they're also citizens. He looked back at his wife, who was beaming.

"What matters is," she spoke. "We're all Autobots. And nothing will change that, 'till all are one."

Optimus Prime smiled and looked down at the Matrix of Leadership. His chest opened, and he placed it inside.

"We all have our roles to play here. To go back to being, housewives, and news anchors, and whatever else. You, the Fifteenth Prime, will get us there."

He nodded and touched his earpiece.

"Sentinel Prime, King Grimlock, I have missions for both of you."

With that, Optimus Prime remained leader of the Autobots, and, with more valor than ever, the army of Primus was ready to take on anything that came their way.

Chapter Text

Shockwave sat down across from Soundwave, wiping the sweat from around his eyes and under his horns. Soundwave didn't understand, being a Cybertronian and all. Shockwave was half-Quintesson, though, and that half gave him sweat glands. Shockwave was building a new body for himself, and only Soundwave knew about it, for it held a very important secret.

"Looks good. The colors are nice," Soundwave said, breaking the silence in an attempt to lighten the mood. Shockwave opened his third eye and growled. Not a mean growl, it was a common occurrence. This kind of growl usually came before Shockwave spoke, just how he is.

"My gratitude, Soundwave." The other two eyes opened. "Progress is coming along nicely. I only wish creating the head was as easy." Soundwave's antenna twitched. Shockwave entrusted his secret, his failsafe, to him alone. They've discussed telling at least one more person, but they don't know where others' allegiances lie. Megatron was generally unpopular among Decepticons who can pass a mirror test, but even some high rankers were loyal.

"Hey, you'll figure it out. Just do what you always do. Throw it at the wall and see what sticks."

"You're horrible at reassuring." Shockwave's eyes, all three of them, dropped to being half-lidded. Not impressed, as usual.

Soundwave shrugged. He was fine with all the stuff Shockwave said, no matter how bad it is. Starscream told him he needed the humility.

As if on cue with that thought, a cold breeze entered the lab. The air of everything negative always seemed to follow the Prince of Velocitron, which made him even more intimidating. It was enough that he was the greatest warrior orbiting Ultima, but as Megatron's second in command, it was nearly impossible to not feel weak near him. Starscream strode through the room and grabbed a chair to sit between the two. It was bolted to the floor, so he used some force to tear it off and shove it into the ground where he wanted to sit. He then sat down, looking between the musician to his left and the disgusting Quintesson to his right. His voice was uncharacteristically low, betraying his almost feminine appearance. Strikingly generic, one Decepticon called it once. His body remains on a pike outside of Darkmount City.

"Hey, what's kissin'?" Soundwave said, once again to lighten the mood.

Starscream pulled his wing off his back as it extended to resemble a sword. He shoved it into the floor and rested his hands on it.

"Wishing I could be better, as usual. And before you ask, I haven't found her yet. Not even a lead."

Soundwave's antennae drooped down. He hated bad news. Meanwhile, Shockwave's expression hardly changed.

"Might I ask your reason for coming down here?" He said with that familiar growl.

Starscream looked towards him. His face always had that permanent look of grief, like there was a piece missing from him that could never be put back. Despite that, he spoke in as cheerful voice as he could muster.

"Just needed a break. Lord Megatron is a hassle. I'm sure you both know what he has in his possession." His voice dropped to a serious tone. "I fear what he will do with the Antispark in his greedy hands. I fear for the Primes, the Autobots, for Cybertron."

Soundwave and Shockwave glanced at each other, silently saying the same thing, "should we tell him?"

Starscream caught on and said, "Is something the matter?" He was playing dumb.

Shockwave stuttered and fumbled his words as he tried to speak. "N-no, nothing's wrong. We were just..."

Soundwave chimed in to cover for him. "W-we were just surprised, is all. It's pretty jarring to hear that from you. Being second in command and all-"

"Stop lying to me."

Soundwave's antennae shot backward and the tentacles on Shockwave's torso slithered. He wasn't the Prince of Velocitron for nothing.

Shockwave sighed. "Considering we now know your opinions on Megatron and where your thoughts lie, I believe it's safe to tell you. But you MUST promise that nobody outside this room hears about it."

Megatron's words echoed in Starscream's mind. "If Shockwave's happy, everyone's happy." It was the only time he'd seen him show even a hint of fear. It seemed like this was what he was talking about. Starscream doubted he'd walk away unscathed if he said no, so he said yes.

"The body I'm building," he began, "has an alternate purpose. It's a failsafe for if the Decepticon regime fails to be what it promised to be. I will use the Cortical Psychic Patch to transport my consciousness to the new body, but specifically the head. The intent is that the head can transform into a minicon of sorts. I call it Project Headmaster."

Starscream nodded and beckoned Shockwave to explain further.

"I will not reveal the fact that the head is a separate entity to anybody, for that would remove the whole point. Once I deem this faction unfit to continue ruling Cybertron, I will launch myself out of the arm cannon that will be built onto the larger body. That way, once the body is found, it will look like a suicide, and I won't be hunted as a traitor."

Starscream nodded. It was practically foolproof. He knew Shockwave never planned on staying, but he figured he'd leave to his measly home planet, Quintessa. So, Starscream had to ask the obvious question: "And then what?"

Shockwave inhaled before speaking, knowing Starscream wouldn't take it well.

"I will head to the nearest Autobot base and work with them to squander the embers of a burnt-out empire."

Starscream nodded surprisingly understandingly. It seemed as though there was more to his motivation than meets the eye.

"Very well, I will keep your secret," he started, "But know that I will do everything in my power to keep this faction in the green. I will assure this experiment isn't a failure."

The two -Waves nodded and Starscream stood up, removing his wing from the ground and reattaching it to his back, rolling his shoulder to make sure it was secure. He walked to the large window of Shockwave's lab, which admittedly had one of the best views of Darkmount Tower. It resembled the neck, or perhaps the tail of a dragon reaching toward the heavens as if to claim them for its own. "Or drop a deuce," said someone once. Again, the pike. At the top of the hideous spire sat Megatron in his open-roof throne room. He requested the lack of a roof or even walls for the sake of saying "Come and get me!" to any who opposed him. It disgusted Starscream.

He reached into a compartment on his hip and pulled out a box of whatever the Cybertronian equivalent for cigarettes would be. He lit it by flicking his wing in a way that created some sparks and placed it in his mouth, inhaling and blowing the smoke out.

"Thinkin' about Slipstream?" Soundwave asked, finally giving in to his need to talk.

Starscream nodded, his eyes dilating at the thought of his twin sister's face. She had gone missing about a year prior, and not so much as a footprint had shown up to trace her. He took another puff of his cigarette.

Shockwave took a break from trying to dislodge the seat from the middle of his lab to speak.

"With a brother like you, I doubt she's worried. You'll come crashing in with the light at your back and take her to freedom."

Starscream chuckled. "It's quite the image, and I wouldn't mind that being our reunion." His humor faded as his comm-link came on.

"Commandant Starscream, your presence is desired in the throne room." Onslaught's overly authoritative voice said through it.

"Understood. I'm on my way." Starscream said bitterly. Leave it to a Combaticon to ruin the moment. He turned and put his cigarette out on Shockwave's forehead before effortlessly lifting the chair from the floor. Soundwave waved him off as his wings turned inward to avoid the door's threshold. He strode out silently, and the room felt noticeably warmer.

Shockwave went back to his work shortly after putting the chair back in place. Soundwave also left eventually to his own section of the lab.

Chapter Text

Humble Mirage, The Sneakster, the Autobots' greatest asset, he'd been called many things. Only one person ever dared to call him just "Mirage" besides his parents who, like most others, were terminated by Quintessons long ago. Mirage never talked much, but he found the way Blurr couldn't stop doing anything or stand still a breath of fresh air, strangely. There's apparently not a lot of things you experience growing up on the slums of Cybertron's center planet, Primus. Mirage was on a mission to save that friend, invisibly weaving through VC-09's complex. An announcement came on the loudspeaker, which startled him into nearly disabling his cloaking.

This is a message to all Decepticons on Cybertron. From now on, all corpses, friend or foe, nonfunctional weaponry, and any other replaceable metal is to be collected and brought to the refinery West of Darkmount Tower.

Mirage stared at the nearest speaker playing the message, unsure of what Megatron could be planning. The next line practically made him go pale.

From now on, no prisoners are to be taken, nor trophies collected. All current prisoners are to be executed.

Mirage hurried down the halls faster than he'd ever run before. Sentinel Prime himself sent him on this mission, and he won't fail. Lost in thought, he ran headfirst into someone, a Decepticon, by the looks of it. He quickly disguised himself as a Vehicon, as he'd practiced.

"Hey! Where the hell'd you come from?" The Decepticon spat. They clearly used their size as a means of intimidation.

"S-sorry! It won't happen again!" He quickly shouted.

The Decepticon's eye zeroed in on him, their ugly overbite curving into a snarl. "That's Lieutenant to you. Lieutenant Lugnut. Remember the name."

"Y-yes, Lieutenant Lugnut."

Lugnut grunted and stomped away, giving Mirage a window to turn invisible and continue running.

Surprisingly, Mirage made it to the prison before anyone else could. Looking inside the first cell, he saw Perceptor and Sunstreaker. The second held Blurr, who was pacing back and forth, probably for a while. He slowly revealed himself.

"Psst," he whispered. Blurr was at the bars immediately.

"Mirage? Mirage! It's you! I missed you so much! You have no idea how boring it is in here and I wasreallyhopingyou'dshowupeventuallybutIneverthoughtit'dbethissoonhaveyouheardthenews?Theywanttokillusisn'tthatweird?Likewhywouldyoutakeprisonersjusttokillthem?Sostrangeanywaywhat'reyouupto?"

Mirage couldn't even find a good spot to interrupt him, but he shook his head once Blurr was done.

"You should be quieter. I'm here to get you guys out of here."

"Oh, right." Blurr finally slowed down. Mirage got to work, forming an illusion around his hand to appear as a vehicon's, and placing it on the hand scanner between the cells. Miraculously, it worked, and both cells opened. The three Autobots hurried over to him and hugged him, congratulated him, etc. Mirage wasted no time telling the three to get moving, and he began leading them to the exit.

All was going smoothly, as it should have.

The alarm sounded, but we were close enough to the exit that it didn't matter.

We shouldn't have been interrupted, Perceptor made sure of it.

And yet...

She came out of nowhere. She must have known.

We ran as fast as we could. Blurr was long gone.

I should have known. I should have known...

What will Sideswipe say? What would he think of me? Did I really fail him? It all happened so fast...

Sunstreaker couldn't even get a gasp out as Lugnut slammed her fist into his side, knocking his top half completely off. She quickly kicked his legs out of the way and lunged at Perceptor, but her hand was cut off by the sudden slamming of the interior gate. Blurr rushed back to Mirage and Perceptor.

"Where'd Sunn-"

"WE NEED TO GO, NOW!" Perceptor shouted, getting to his feet.

The three of them transformed and made their escape. It was only after they were a safe distance away did the pain of what happened finally set in...

Sunstreaker woke up in a pile of scrap metal. Judging by the ceiling, he was on a conveyor belt. His legs were a few feet to his right, but he didn't have the energy to try to get them. A roar drew his attention leftward, and he could see a Predacon being held down by chains. By the looks of it, it was Headstrong. What was it doing here? Sunstreaker finally thought about it and wondered what he was doing here. His thoughts were interrupted as he managed to turn himself over and look over the edge of the massive transport cart he was in. He saw red hot liquid metal pouring into molds, some extremely thick and some really thin. Workers hammered the metal into shape, and later down the line, the metal was being cooled and painted a deep purple. He couldn't react in any way; he was depleted of Energon. Sunstreaker closed his eyes, and for a split second, saw his brother, Sideswipe, before everything went dark.