Archive of Our Own

Iacon is in an uproar. On every screen, the footage of Sentinel spewing the truth plays, along with the scene of him handing the Quintessons energon. The energon that the cogless miners tirelessly supplied the false Prime, energon that he was giving away so freely. The truth played high above the Cybertronians heads, and they all watched in horror and shock. And in rage.

D-16 watches as well, Sentinel’s words ringing through his mind. Every single syllable. His orange optics bore holes into the nearest screen as he tries his best to lift himself up from the ground. Sentinel is horrified. D soaks up his frustration, his fear, as he gets to his pedes. It’s radiating off of him in such strong waves, it would be hard not to notice. The cracks in this liar’s facade were slowly getting larger.

“Liar!”

“We trusted you!”

The Cybertronians shout out their laments and declarations powerfully, and they all travel to the highest grounds where D is. His breaths get shorter, his vision becoming narrow. The wound on his chassis, Sentinel’s crude insignia of Megatronus, is nothing but a hollow burn. A guttural roar tears from his throat. He moves without telling himself to, latching onto Sentinel and pushing him off of the ledge where he stood.

D and the false Prime fall fast. The landscape of Iacon is battered. They’re out in the open now. The battle rages on as the two Cybertronians descend, cogless miners and the High Guard against Sentinel’s forces. Energy blasts were fired in every direction. Smoke settled and reappeared around the bots fighting. Somewhere in that crowd were B and Elita.

They are the least of D’s worries.

Without any grace, D hits the smooth surface of the raised platform marking the city’s center. His face is buried in the cold, now dented metal. Nearby, he hears another slam, then Sentinel grunting in pain. He lifts his head, vision swirling only for a moment before his optics lock onto his target.

As he stands, his right arm suddenly becomes heavy. He holds onto it, with his newly acquired cannon glinting in the light. He gives it a glance, tightens his fist. He feels a rush of satisfaction.

Sentinel cannot fly. He claws at the ground and the boosters on his pedes spark to life. They burst and start to carry him into the air, but in a fleeting instant, they give out. He skids back down to the ground, flipped onto his back. When he spots D, his optics grow wide with fear. He pushes himself away.

“D-16!” the tired ex-leader heaves, tone almost pleading, “We can rule Cybertron together! Don’t do this!”

The sheer absurdity of the statement catches D off guard, but only for a moment. It’s a last ditch effort to make amends, to try and convince D to let him live. How pathetic, he thinks as a smile makes its way onto his face. He gives in and laughs out loud for anyone nearby to hear, shaking his head pitifully, optics obscured for the briefest of moments by his helmet. Sentinel groans and tries to pick himself up, burdened by his wounds. Just the opposite of D; his body never felt so light, even when he used to have no cog and no extra armor to weigh him down.

When he looks up at Sentinel, all the false Prime can see is deep, burning red.

“I will not rule beside a tyrant.” His words are like venom, stinging with every ounce of anger in his spark. “You deserve no mercy.”

With confident strides and a now fiery red gaze, he approaches Sentinel’s battered frame. The cannon on his arm buzzes, crackling with energy. D breathes, gasping and anticipating. The barrel of the cannon is aimed at Sentinel’s head.

He’s ready to fire. He finds no hesitation within him, no second guesses or questions or thoughts about what would happen after. He was going to avenge the Thirteen Primes, avenge Megatronus and Alpha Trion, and there would be no more deception in Iacon.

But he doesn’t fire, doesn’t even get the chance to command his new weapon to release the blast. Two strong servos grab his arm and his shoulder, yanking him backward a half-step. His weapon powers down as his attention turns to the bot who stopped him.

“Pax,” he exhales, “What are you doing?”

Orion holds his ground as D tries to free himself of his grip. He can feel the other bot shaking, from exhaustion or shock, he doesn’t truly know. His irritation rises in a much different way than it usually does when Orion is the cause. Despite his friend being utterly hopeless sometimes, there was always a hidden layer of fondness under his annoyance. Now, he wanted nothing more than for him to let him go, leave him alone with his opponent, who was so close to his demise.

“It’s over, D. Everyone in Iacon knows the truth.” Orion scans D’s face, and mutters under his breath. “Your optics…”

D isn’t sure what he means. He pushes past the short-lived feeling that he should step back and explain, and he instead pushes against Orion’s hold on him.

“He took everything from us! I have to do this!” he shouts, but slowly his voice falls, “For the miners, for the Primes…” Until he whispers, “For us.”

Orion starts to shake his head. There’s worry in his eyes. Why? D doesn’t know why he’s keeping him from punishing Sentinel. He wants this, too; he said so himself, even though he wasn’t on board with killing him. D’s words should convince him.

But Orion, stubborn Orion, doesn’t let him near Sentinel at all. He doesn’t budge from his spot, doesn’t let D go.

“I don’t want you to do this for me, D, or for you.” His mouth is set in a firm line. “Iacon can not be rebuilt with an execution.”

D’s gaze falls. He grits his teeth. “He deserves to die. Can’t you see that? He deserves death a thousand times over! After everything we’ve gone through! We could have lived in a world where we’ve always had our cogs, where we didn’t have to work in the mines!”

Those what if’s were just afterthoughts. They were barely real thoughts in between all of the chaos their group of four had to deal with on the surface of Cybertron. But they were there, and now, D let them take over. He let himself get pulled through his memories with Orion, and the imaginary ones where they led different lives. D almost wants to ask if he’s thought of them, too. Worlds where things played out so much differently then they did.

“We wouldn’t have met, then,” is his friend’s brief answer.

“Wouldn’t have met in the mines, no. But I know I would have known you from somewhere else, I would have found you,” D continues, letting his sharp tone slip away for one fleeting moment, “Our lives would have been so much brighter if it wasn’t for him.”

Sentinel still lays there, too lost in his struggle to pull himself up to notice the two watching him. It’s the perfect moment to deliver a blow. Orion’s voice cuts through the thought.

“D, please. Look at me. He deserves punishment…but we’re better than this.”

D’s optics narrow. “Stand down. I don’t want to hurt you.”

D never has wanted to. Not even now. He couldn’t bring himself to harm the bot, even though he stands in his path. Now wasn’t the time for him to be stubborn.

“You have to snap out of this. This lust for power, this-this anger,” he warns, “Don’t be like Sentinel.”

His words reverberate through D’s processor, stunning him into temporary silence. Here stands his friend, the bot he’s shared his trials and his proudest moments with, spouting nonsense that could rival the false Prime’s declarations. But Orion isn’t Sentinel. Even when he was trying to keep him from his destiny.

“Pax…you need to move out of my way.” D looks Orion in the optics, a challenge and a declaration that his mind wouldn’t be changed. Destruction was calling his name, and he was going to answer. “Before I move you myself.”

He feels Orion’s weight shift. It’s exactly what he needs to get past him.

“D, listen-” Orion’s voice is cut off as D shoves him aside. He falls beside him. D barely casts a glance at the other. If he knows what’s good for him, and he’s sure his friend does, he would stay down. He’d stay down long enough for D to finish this.

Whatever came after would be solvable with words. This wouldn’t be.

The cannon on his arm powers up once more, brilliant purple energy crackling and churning. He strides over to Sentinel, in the same place where he last saw him. He aims for his head once more.

“Stop!”

D hears Orion as soon as he commands his cannon to fire. There’s thundering steps approaching from behind. The blast exits the barrel, a quick shot of energy. It doesn’t hit Sentinel, doesn’t even graze him.

Horror floods into D’s spark as a beyond horrible scene unfolds before him. Orion had jumped between them. The blast hits his friend, burning its way through his shoulder, completely cutting off his arm. He doesn’t scream, mouth frozen without any sounds escaping him; his blue optics are wide, watching D as he’s blown backward with the force of the blast. As soon as he starts tumbling across the ground, heading for the edge of the plaza, D runs after him.

“Orion! No!”

His pedes carry him past Sentinel, toward his friend. He runs and runs, looking for an opening to grab onto him so he wouldn’t disappear over the ledge. Small scraps of burnt metal hit his body, falling from the gaping wound Orion now has. D sucks in a breath and dives for his hand. He clasps it firmly just as Orion’s body slips over the edge. D’s body starts to slide. He grabs the edge of the ground with his other servo, holding both of the weight.

Orion dangles there, limp and barely twitching, head hanging. The blast almost hit his spark, not just his shoulder. If he had jumped in at another angle, the blast would have pierced his chassis right in the center. D grips his servo as tight as he can, though it’s terrible to feel the other bot hardly gripping back.

“No, no, no, no. No!” D repeats to himself in disbelief, words coming out in ragged gasps, “Orion, why?”

The other bot doesn’t answer. D shakes his head, not wanting to look at the damage he inflicted but unable to tear his optics away from the sight.

“Please don’t die. Please.”

He knows his pleading won’t do any good, yet he can’t help the words from tumbling from his mouth. As quickly as his thirst for vindication from Sentinel and his wrong-doings came, it vanishes. The moment replays in his head; the cannon blast, the smell of burning metal, Orion’s expression. He was so composed as it happened. D chokes back a sob. He shuts his optics tight, willing his body to stay strong to hold Orion above the dark chasm, to not let him fall. He needs to pull him up, but he’s unable to move.

“D…”

D’s optics shoot open. He quickly looks down, unable to suppress a thankful sigh. Orion’s head has lifted. He’s still alive and watching him with tired blue optics. He wasn’t angry, and wasn't showing any pain in his expression. He almost looks…relieved.

“You’re back,” he states, fighting for breath.

Something feels different. The images he crafted mere moments ago of Sentinel’s demise were less appealing. A fog seems to be lifting itself from D’s mind. He still believes in some sort of punishment, but now? Now, his friend is the only thing occupying his thoughts.

If there was no Orion, what he would be avenging would only be a small sliver of justification.

Holding the two of them up for this long begins to make D’s arm stretch and strain. He exhales sharply against the discomfort, the amount of sorrow in his voice doing nothing to justify what his spark is feeling. “Primus, why did I shoot? Why?! It wasn’t supposed to be you!”

Orion grimaces, “D…i-it’s alright.”

“Pax, why would you do that?” D asks weakly.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Orion wasn’t supposed to get hurt. His friend is strong, and he always has been. From when they began working in the mines, to receiving his cog, to this final battle. D couldn’t have been by his side the entire time; he wasn’t. Orion was able to fend off the enemy himself. But D and Orion made a promise together when they first met. He’d watch his back, and Orion would watch his.

But now he’s broken that promise. Orion was barely holding on physically. Small sparks of light danced off his charred frame. His bright blue and red colors were dulled into gray by the blast. Why did he do this?

“I had to…save you,” the bot mutters, and somehow has the strength to give D a small smile. A personal one he’s seen many times when it’s been just the two of them in each other’s company.

Did D need saving? As he looks down at his friend again, he isn’t sure what the other bot truly means. But that da*ned smile. His spark lurches once more with nostalgia and admiration. He’d never seen Orion smile in such a graven situation, yet he seems to mean it just as much as it has before.

“I…” Orion pauses. He considers his words before he says them.

D hangs onto that one word, waiting. For what, he’s not sure. Another apology? Another comforting statement about how everything would be alright? It would take a miracle from Primus for everything to go back to how it was mere cycles ago.

His friend, hanging above the emptiness of Cybertron’s deep core, looks him in the optics. His mouth curves upward once more.

“I love you, D.”

D’s frame shakes with a held back cry. He holds Orion’s servo tighter. Orion squeezes back. He tries to respond, but all that comes out of his mouth is a weak sigh. The battle rages on around them; gunfire goes off dangerously nearby. Both of them flinch as another building crumbles.

“Orion,” D finally manages to say, crestfallen yet sincere, the first time he has been in so long, “I do, too. I-I love you, too.”

A weight that feels thousands of orbital periods in the making releases its hold on the bot. Funny how a few words that were so simple in meaning could have such a large effect on him, and after everything he’s been through recently. It all felt obsolete compared to this confession. He meant it with all of his spark. It didn’t take him long to figure it out a long time ago. Working tirelessly in the mines, being around the red and blue bot constantly, going along with his antics and tagging along on his outings. All of the jokes and banter they shared. The long talks they had under Iacon’s bright lights. D’s surprised they hadn’t said these words sooner.

“I’m sorry,” he confesses, the guilt suddenly becoming too much.

“So am I,” Orion responds.

D shakes his head sadly. “You have nothing to be sorry about. None of it. Y-you know I would have been happy with you…wherever we ended up.”

Orion’s head tilts backward in a semblance of a nod. “I know,” he answers softly.

They stay there in silence for only a short amount of time. It feels much longer to D, new information that he’s somehow always known about occupying his thoughts. Not even the pain in his frame deterred him from getting lost in his head, with his friend’s optics scanning him in quiet understanding.

“Have you always known?”

It took some time for D to figure it out himself, though he wouldn’t begrudgingly keep it a secret. Orion Pax was an enigma, open and kind when they first met, then stubborn and hard-headed after they shared a friendship for only a few cycles. He was a genius when it came to Cybertronian history, horrible at sparring until D taught him some of his tactics. Above all, though, he cared about D. He always asked him if he was alright, though both of them were more often than not dozens of shifts deep and feigning off stasis.

No one ever had cared as much as Orion. When he found out that their friendship wasn’t because of their work situation, and that the other bot didn’t hang around just because he had to, he accepted his feelings and nurtured them by himself. How long did Orion share the sentiment?

“For a long time,” his friend answers truthfully, tears forming in his own optics.

D sighs out a weak chuckle. “Me, too,” he confesses, then with a knowing tone, tells him, “We’ll…we’ll patch you up. You’ll be fine, alright? Just hold on. Don’t let go.” He squeezes his servo once more. “Please.”

Orion has had enough strength to hold on this long. D just needed him to hold on for a while longer, until he could pull him up to safety. He’d find a place for Orion to rest; he’d call Elita and B over, wherever they were at, to help him. D would find a way to cease the fighting, and he would deal with Sentinel. The idea of ending this battle peacefully was far-fetched, impossible, even. But it’s what Orion wants, and if he had to choose between revenge and his friend, he’d choose Orion.

D summons up any last bit of strength he has, clenching Orion’s servo tight, and pulls himself onto his knees. Orion’s body appears over the edge. The bot groans as he’s hoisted farther away from the long fall below him. D watches their hands to make sure he was still holding on.

Orion’s servo slips from his own. Or, at least, that’s what D swears he sees at first. But neither of them let go. A cannon blast shoots through the gap between both of their servos, searing their digits. D can’t grab it again. He claws at air.

“No!”

Orion’s frame gets smaller and smaller as he descends into the gaping crack in Cybertron’s core. His blue optics are on D, unblinking. He falls limply into the darkness with D still holding onto the ledge.

The bot screams when Orion disappears fully from view.

—

Orion never thought his spark would go out like this. The last bits of life he clings on to are fleeting; they aren’t permanent and will surely be gone soon. Still, the gears in his mind whir, even when he can’t move any part of his body.

He falls through gaps of metal plates and coils. It all twists and shapes itself into the biological metal inner workings of Cybertron. Under all of the thoughts in his mind telling him that there would be no escaping this fate, he thought of D.

Their first meeting was just a small exchange of words. And a promise. That promise started it all. During every shift in the mines, they watched out for each other. After that, Orion was able to be himself around D, and was able to drag him to all of the places he wanted to go. D complained, of course, and begrudgingly helped him get away with sneaking into Archives, but he never stopped helping him.

He would have never thought that was how he’d confess to him, but he knew that if he didn’t say it, there may not have been a chance for him to tell him later. His friend was convinced he could be fixed. Another unlikely scenario.

At least he saved him from evil for a little while.

When he first got in the way of his cannon, and he saw D’s once orange optics had changed to a burning red, he was afraid his friend was gone. He wanted Sentinel to be stopped like Orion did, but he wanted to go further than a banishment. He proclaimed he was doing it for the both of them. Orion didn’t wish for any bot to die for the sake of his past struggles.

When he stepped the second time, he knew D didn’t mean to shoot him. When he was dangling over that ledge, the red had slowly gone back to orange, how they always had looked. All of the anger in D’s voice had vanished. He was crying; D never cried. Now, if he decided to turn back to his hatred, Orion couldn’t bring him back.
He hopes that whatever D does next wouldn’t erase his true self.

—

The Cybertronians battling near the center of Iacon pause their fighting when they hear a scream. They look up from their fights and listen. It’s a scream of pure grief, raw and unbridled. They look on as a silver bot shouts into the rift in Cybertron’s core.

D’s mind is clouded over. He can’t seem to form a full thought. But he feels everything. He feels exhaustion in his body. He feels tears falling from his optics. He feels his spark break into pieces. Until his voice box is straining, he howls out his sorrow. When he goes quiet, all of the bots nearby notice a shift in the air.

D’s fist hit the ground beside him, once, twice. He finally tears his gaze away from the exact spot where he last saw Orion.

“Orion.” He stifles a weak sob. “I-I’m sorry.”

On shaking pedes he stands, disoriented. He wipes at his cheeks, blue tears clinging to his digits. The crude Megatronus insignia on his chest stings, a smaller representation of the pain his spark exudes underneath. He stumbles backward from the ledge, seeing fleeting glimpses of the battle still going on around him. The High Guard seekers speed past him, firing at Sentinel’s men. The Cybertronians on the ground and surrounded by the rubble of a once prouder Iacon.

D hears laughing coming from behind him.

Sentinel.

He turns to see the ex-leader propping himself up on one arm, the other still raised with a smaller cannon still charged up. He’s heaving out short breaths, shoulders rising and falling. But his face is full of pride, mouth twisted into a cruel grin.

“Ha. I-I never miss…even when I’ve been beaten.” He tilts his head. “What…will you do now...D-16?”

The color of the cannon’s charge is the same as the color of the blast that pulled D and Orion’s hands apart. As soon as he registers it, he feels a rush of rage. The same one he felt coursing through his frame when he was set on his knees at the mercy of Sentinel. He grits his teeth, tightens his fists, and welcomes the feeling. He lets it smother his heartbreak, lets it guide his thoughts of Orion away from his mind until the only thing he can picture is Sentinel’s demise.

This time, he can practically feel the change. He takes a strong step forward, the cannon on his arm powering up.

“I’m going to kill you,” he seethes, eyes shining red, dried blue tear stains on his face.

And he charges forward.

Smooth gold figures of Sentinel’s guard come swooping overhead, landing with heavy thuds between their leader and D. D’s steps don’t falter. He attacks each of them one by one, first throwing a punch to knock one over, then uppercutting the next. His servos are clenched tightly as they come into contact with the guard’s frames in all different spots. His cannon fires through them. He shoves and throws them aside when they’re no longer a threat.

D doesn’t see that many of the bots, once fighting their own battles, are watching him. The High Guard troops have landed. In the crowd, B and Elita bear witness to his brutality, and so do the miner bots Orion recruited. They see that he’s not the same after Orion fell. His rage consumes him, makes his optics glow brighter with red hatred.
They are stunned into a stupor, and watch as he throws that last guard defending Sentinel aside.

One last attempt to claw himself further away from D is what Sentinel chooses to do once he sees his forces have been overthrown easily. But he can’t escape D. The bot grabs Sentinel, one servo on his shoulder, the other digging into his back. He lifts him up as if he weighed nothing, for all of Iacon watching.

D roars with a fury unlike any other, one that was wild and unstoppable. He rips Sentinel’s body in half, right in the middle. All of his inner workings, wires and metal, burst apart. The false Prime’s mouth is agape with horror and unspoken pain. Sparks fall onto D’s face, bathing him like rain.

When he drops both pieces of Sentinel, they slam into the ground lifelessly, hollowly. The light in Sentinel’s optics dim until they’re no more.

—

Orion is still alive. His consciousness stays the longer he falls. Though he’s confused, he can’t bring himself to move, or to think about anything other than his past memories.
The empty space he descends into one goes one way. Down. When he feels his body being pulled in another direction, he’s questioning what is happening. The atmosphere shifts slowly. Bots' presences appear in front of him, pure energy unbounded to metal. His body comes to a halt. He cannot speak, cannot open his optics to figure out where he was and who was with him.

He doesn’t need to.

Alpha Trion’s strong voice reverberates through the space, ringing in Orion’s head. He’s calmed in the slightest, though he’s sure the original Prime’s presence here means he didn’t survive his encounter with Sentinel. Despite this, his last bits of consciousness hold onto his words.

“Orion Pax, your noble sacrifice for the greater good has proven you worthy in the eyes of Primus,” Trion booms, “He entrusts in you the future of Cybertron, and…the Matrix of Leadership!”

Orion can see a brilliant blue light behind his lids. It approaches him swiftly, trustingly. Orion lets the light envelop him. His chassis works its way open past the damage it's been given. As the Matrix settles into chest, his body starts to change. Parts reconfigure themselves. The charred pieces of his armor are replaced with bright red and blue. His arm returns; all of the pain vanishes, and his mind suddenly becomes clear.

—

When D-16 stalks to the edge of the platform, he sees that some sort of crowd had gathered around where he stood. He sees individual faces, but he can’t be bothered to fully process who was there.

Before he looked out at the bots, he had taken one thing from Sentinel's corpse. Something that never should have fallen into the tyrant’s servos.

Megatronus Prime’s cog, still humming with life and glowing violet.

“The age of deceit has ended!” His voice echos, choppy and loud and full of command, a command that could rival Alpha Trion’s powerful words. “No more false prophets!”

He holds Megatronus’ cog high, and can feel strength immeasurable just radiating off of it. It tempts him more than it would have if he hadn’t given in to his desire. If Orion was-

No, he growls. Thoughts of his friend would come later. He has to undo the wrongs of Sentinel first. He has to make things right his way.

This isn’t something he can do alone. He appeals to the masses, to the High Guard and any other bot who found the truth as harrowing as he did. Iacon wouldn’t be able to be reformed by one bot’s will alone, though D’s would do a great deal of change.

“Follow me and you will never again be deceived!” he calls to them, holding Megatronus’ cog higher in declaration, “Rise up!”

Almost immediately, the crowd responds. They hold their tightened servos up. They begin to chant.

“Rise up! Rise up! Rise up!”

Their voices swell with support. It fills D’s processor, and it’s the most glorious sound he’s ever heard.

“I will lead us all into the future!” he responds.

His optics drift to the cog in his servo. He stares at it, considering, then grins. His chassis begins to unlock, revealing the cog Alpha Trion gave him. He grabs it forcefully, pulls it from his chest. Megatronus’ cog takes its place. As soon as it’s nestled into his chest cavity, energy ripples through D’s body, a brilliant purple electricity. His frame changes once more. He rises in height, sporting a sleeker silver. His fusion cannon goes from one blaster to three.

D would have never guessed that he, a miner working up the ranks, following the order and rules of Iacon to a tee, would be at the center of the city’s rebirth, and would be the cause of it. He shouts out his decrees with passionate fury. This was for the Cybertronians that had their lives dominated by a bot-made caste system. This was for a new world.

“For Cybertron! For Iacon!”

This was for the old D-16.

—

“D…” is the first thing Orion groans when his spark begins to spin with a new-found energy.

His friend didn’t let go of his hand. Someone shot at them. Did D know that it wasn’t his fault? What was happening in Iacon? Orion needs to know. His new frame, although heavy and awkward in these first few moments, felt capable of so much more. Orion wasn’t going to stay here. He couldn’t.

“Your friend has made a great mistake, one that will be hard to wash away,” Alpha Trion states grimly.

Orion’s face contorts with worry, optics remaining closed. His voice is light, almost afraid to form the questions he has in his mind.

“What can I do? Do I have time to help him?”

Alpha Trion and the other Primes are silent for almost too long. Orion waits, pleading with every ounce of his newly ignited spark for them to give a positive response. Whatever it was that D did, Orion can guess it had to do with Sentinel.

“You must go quickly. If he continues down this path, he surely won’t return to the light.” Alpha Trion speaks for all of the Primes, trusting Orion fully. “You must stop there from being any more energon shed for the sake of Sentinel’s overturning.”

Orion knows that this wouldn’t be an easy task. Whatever D has done, if he’s completely forgotten about him or if his mistake is because of Orion’s fall, will not be something that can be resolved just through words. He has no training, only his brute strength from the mines and his knowledge from the Archives.

Along with the Matrix’s power, it is all he has to stop Iacon from descending further into peril.

“I will,” he promises firmly, steadfastly, “I will stop this.”

The Matrix beats sharply in his chest, a supply of power unlike any he’s owned before coursing through him.

“Then go! Save Cybertron from war! You are its hope, and ours,” Alpha Trion says.

Along with him, the other Primes declare their support. Their words only fuel the fire in Orion’s mind. He is not the cogless miner he once was, far from being given more responsibility than he could manage, dreaming for something bigger than the life he had.

Today, he is reborn.

“Arise! Optimus Prime.”

This is for the old Orion Pax.

—

“Burn it down! All of it!”

A carved image of Sentinel, standing untouched near the plaza, is reduced to rubble by D’s newly equipped cannon. More shots go off and more of Iacon’s architecture is torn down. The ground shakes beneath the miner bots’ feet. The High Guard scatters around the plaza to aid D in his destruction. B and Elita are shoved harshly out of the way as they charge in the direction of their leader. They try their best to stay upright, locking optics for a long, scared moment.

“He’s gonna kill everyone. We have to stop him,” Elita shouts, then begins to run toward D, “Come on!”

B follows her. They run through the crowd and the rubble up to the platform where D stands, like a king observing his subjects carrying out his command. They climb up the side of the platform until they make it to the top. Elita charges first, carelessly albeit fiercely. She hooks her servos around D’s cannon before any of the shots are able to hit the buildings surrounding them. B summons up enough courage to do the same, trying to pin D down before anything else is damaged.

“Stop, D! It’s over!” Elita grunts as she’s swung around.

The gaze that meets her own is reminiscent of the one she saw in the cave where the Thirteen Primes rest. Pure anger that wouldn’t be swayed by any untrusted bot’s words.
Elita and B aren’t the people to change his mind. They realize this quickly.

“This is over when every last one of his followers is dead!” D roars.

With Megatronus’ power in D’s chest, B and Elita don’t have much of a chance at bringing him down permanently. Elita is thrown off of him hitting the ground on her back. D holds her down. B, who stayed close to the two when Elita was thrown away, fires a shot at D. It knocks him back far enough for Elita to scramble away. Enraged, D fires three blasts, the first two hitting the ground too close to the yellow bot’s helm. The third was directed much higher, missing him entirely. Elita was the cause; she jumped up quickly from being knocked down and rammed her shoulder into D’s chassis, skewing his aim at B. The yellow bot takes this brief window of opportunity to raise himself back onto his pedes, and to draw out his twin blue blades. His battle mask slides into place quickly, and he charges toward D.

The both of them try their hardest. Neither of them had experience in fighting. Elita had brute strength, a powerful punch, from working in the mines. B had speed and precision, using his blades as his first line of attack and defense against D’s powerful energy cannon.

It isn’t enough to come close to stopping him.

When either of them try to hold him down, he flings them off. When they land a blow, he’s either stunned for only a click or non-reacting. He deals his own blows, powerful punches and kicks to their helms and sides. He fends them off until they stop attacking, unsure of their next move and beaten down, intakes labored with heavy exhales, optics hazed over with defeat.

“D!” Elita strains to raise her voice over the fighting. “This…None of this…is going to bring Pax back!”

B joins in, pleading, “Please, D! We know this isn’t what you want!”

D meets their gazes with a narrowed optical ridge and bared teeth. He swings his cannon in one swift arc.

“This is exactly what I want! You know nothing!” He shakes his helm. “I’m done listening! I’m done with protocol!”

Another couple of shots are fired at the two D called his friends. Elita tucks herself into a roll. Be jumps away, deflecting half of the blast with one of his blades. It scalds his yellow paint with a singing hiss. D keeps himself firmly planted on his pedes, observing them both. It’s such a waste to be sparring with them, when so much had to be done to rid Iacon of Sentinel’s touch.

They just had to mention him, as if it would snap him out of a rage-fueled stupor he doesn’t want to be under the influence of. They think he’s simply grieving, acting out of an emotion that took hold of his spark longer than his hatred. They didn’t hear Orion and his confession, but they saw him dangling over the edge of the plaza. Did their facial expressions give their feelings away, or were they desperately trying to appeal to his friendship with the red and blue bot and expecting it to do something?

Their plan has failed. D has no more tears to shed for Orion. His hatred was hiding his sorrow, and that is what he wants it to do. With blood, his own, smeared across his denta, he snarls at Elita and B.

“You say Pax wouldn’t have wanted this? Well, he’s not here to prove you right.”

D almost thinks he can take a breath and get back to his mission.

But he’s not alone for long.

A brilliant blue light shoots up into the sky, from the dark chasm of the well of Allsparks. It’s almost like a shooting star that doesn’t quite reach the sky. It cuts through the edge of the plaza, sending metal and B and Elita flying. Both shout in surprise, and their forms are lost under the edge of the platform. They land safely on the ground below, where the best of the bots on their team stand.

D shields his optics but watches as the light falls to the edge of the platform, mere clicks away from D himself. They land on both pedes, servos clenched into fists. A hollow thrum resonates through the plaza, stunning the miner bots and the High Guard members. They see this bot stand before D-16, and once they recognize him, they can’t turn away.

Two blindingly blue optics pierce through D. For the first time since the battle began, shock appeared on his face. He doesn’t give away the fact that his spark, despite being hell-bent on revenge, sings when he realizes it’s Orion that stands in front of him. The damage caused by D’s cannon blast is nonexistent; his frame has been repaired, arm replaced. Under the golden lights of Iacon, no chips or dents from previous scrimaches are visible. It’s him, and yet he’s so different. A lot of the previous Orion was hidden under glossier red and blue paint. The metal mask covering his mouth is sharp and silver; all D can see is his blue optics, lit with a light that he’s never seen any bot possess, cogged or cogless.

And then he spots it. Right in the center of his chest cavity, behind a hatch of transparent blue, sits the Matrix of Leadership, in all its golden splendor. It made its home in Orion’s chest. It was given to Orion, bestowed upon him. And he accepted, though he can’t comprehend how.

That makes Orion a Prime, doesn’t it?

D would have knelt at Orion’s feet and thanked everything good in the world for giving him the chance to return. Thanked Primus for fixing D’s mistake of causing harm to the one person he cared about the most. He would have hugged the other bot, would have apologized to him until his voice box was raw.

That was what the old D-16 would have done.

“Impossible…” he exhales furiously instead, “Primus gave you the Matrix.”

Orion, this new Prime, with his shoulders squared and servos clenched, doesn’t physically react to the animosity in D’s voice. He doesn’t seem relieved to see D, either. His voice is grave and low, muffled by his mask.

“D, what did you do?” he asks.

The silver bot can’t help but let a laugh escape him, as dark as how he felt in that moment.

“I’ve done it…” He raises his helm a little higher, prideful. “I killed him.”

His stoic facade slips for a moment when he hears this. D can tell. Something shifts in his optics. Disbelief, maybe. Horror at what he’s done.

“No…” he hears him mutter, and it only brings a smile to his face.

“Oh, yes. The new age of Cybertron has begun.”

Orion’s gaze falters. It travels across the battered landscape of Iacon. More and more of Sentinel’s forces have fallen. The bots he recruited from the mines are scattered below the plaza. After he was dropped, they were frantically trying to protect themselves, having no more instruction on what to do next. Elita and B are somewhere among them, he hopes.

He turns to D once more, and it’s like looking at a stranger. He appeals to him despite the tension rising between them, threatening to spill over into physicalities, like a calm and collected orator.

“We can still build the future together. There is time to undo what wrongs we’ve done.”

How could he be so calm? D feels his anger spike once more. This doesn’t sound like Orion. This wasn’t Orion.

D scoffs harshly, a blatant dismissal of his words. “I’ll build it myself. After I tear down everyone in my way.” His cannon barrel begins to glow purple. “That includes you, Prime.”

The new title is used as an insult, bitter on his tongue. Orion’s glowing optics narrow. His once rigid stance changes into a fighting one. D matches it with ferocity.
The first blows they exchange happen when they both charge toward each other. D fires his cannon directly at Orion’s helm. Orion dodges and steps to the side of him, fist colliding with his side. D is almost taken aback by the strength behind the blow; Orion was no fighter, and he used most of his strength to sneak around, not to fight upfront. D tells himself angrily for another time that this wasn’t his friend. This was another obstacle.

D pushes himself off of the ground and transforms into his alt-mode, a burly silver tank. He plows toward Orion, treds whirring, the large cannon on his roof firing off several short blasts. Orion changes into his alt-mode as well, driving straight toward D. In the few moments where they’re seconds away from crashing into one another in the center of the plaza, and D has another charge waiting for him to fire, Orion changes back. He rockets himself over D, shooting several smaller blasts under his armor plates, then falls onto the ground behind him. D comes to a halt haphazardly, smoke pluming from his gears. He changes back as well with an angered shout.

His fighting style has become more sporadic, Orion can tell. He throws shot after shot at him in whatever place he can reach, moving so fast his eyes are just streaks of red. Their battle isn’t turning in either of their favor, and it won’t any time soon if neither of them found a way to stop the other. Orion tries to devise some semblance of a plan for him to follow in between blocking D’s strikes. He tries to spot an opening in his attacks, but as soon as he finds one, it disappears.

D lands a punch to his faceplate, then another. Orion does the same. Blood spills from his mouth. He coughs it out, forcing himself to stay on his pedes. He aims his cannon at the Matrix in his chest, and fires. Orion jumps and flips over that blast. It flies into a building farther away. D runs toward him again. Before he can reach Orion, the other bot braces himself and holds out one arm. In a matter of seconds, his servo changes into a flamethrower. It charges up instantaneously.

D barely moves his arm fast enough; the orange shot hits him upfront. He uses his arm guards to shield his frame from the heat, a searing tinge of pain compared to everything else. He moves away from the fire and tries to tackle Orion. The new Prime loses his balance but only for a moment. The treads on his legs start to spin, and the two of them are spun in a circle. This attempt to throw D off of him works. He’s sent rolling away from Orion, but when he stops, he’s on one knee. His cannon slides from his to his back, growing in size. He shoots Orion into a pile of metal rubble that had gathered on the plaza after several blows to his frame. There were now new scratches and dents in his armor, yet he wasn’t badly damaged from any of D’s powerful strikes. With an angered roar, he picks up the nearest piece of metal and charges at him once more. For a moment, Orion’s mask slips off of his face as he takes a few large breaths. It slides back over his mouth when the sharp metal piece D has in his grasp collides with his helm.

D shouts at Orion in between ragged breaths, his intake tight and vision hazed over with red. Each hit creates sparks of light that fly from his armor and hollow clings of metal on metal.

“Just because…you have the Matrix…doesn’t mean you can’t be beaten!”

Before he can raise the metal scrap above his helm to deliver one more frenzied blow, Orion grabs it with a servo, locking the other bot in place. D pulls against his hold, grunting under his breath. Between them, a light appears. D’s optics slide down to Orion’s servo. It has been replaced by some sort of fusion cannon, a low hum of power resonating from it. The Prime glances up at D.

“I don’t need to beat you,” he says, “I need to wake you up.”

The light between them grows, until the ray from the cannon shoots out a blue blast, pushing D back as if he weighed nothing. D falls onto his back and rolls, trying to spot the edge of the plaza before he falls off of it. He digs his hand into the ground to stop himself, and he gets back onto his pedes, albeit the slightest bit slower than previous times.

“I am awake, for the first time in vorns,” he declares, “I’ve seen tyranny has clouded my vision for my whole life, and I’m preventing it from ever happening again.” He pauses, a scowl appearing on his face. “But you…you had to come back. As a Prime, nonetheless.”

Orion stands as well, taking his time to right himself.

“I’m not going to kill you, D,” he firmly states, earning a grunt from D.

“Well, you should try! Make this worth my while!” he shouts.

As he lets out labored intakes, Orion calls to the Matrix, feeling its vibrant hum in his chassis. The strength it's given him has been more than he thought he could wield, and he knows there’s more power that he hasn’t tapped into in this fight. He has too; he has no other option. The Matrix answers his call for assistance, like second nature. He brandishes an axe, its orange glow foreboding. D was charging toward him again, rapidly firing shot after shot. Without stumbling, Orion wields this new axe, spinning it rapidly. As the blasts come toward him, they bounce off of its bright surface, its sharp edge deflecting the blows cleanly, sending them spiraling all around Orion’s frame.
When the cannon fire ceases, Orion takes off running toward D without a second thought. D physically braces himself for a frontal attack from the Prime, readying his cannon and other gun. This is exactly what he thought he’d do. If he doesn’t pick up on what he’s about to do, he can turn the tides of the fight. And hopefully try and get his friend back.

While D lunges forward, ready to attack Orion head on. Before his fist can collide with his faceplate, Orion dodges, moving to the right. As he does, he grabs D’s smaller gun, pulling it with him and turning the other bot around. It bends with an unnatural groan. He takes his axe, and right when D raises his other arm with the intention of throwing in another blaster shot, he slices through the cannon. It’s a clean cut, burning through the metal and cleaving it in half.

D falls when Orion lets his grip loosen. This time, he doesn’t get to his feet right away. He stays sprawled out on his back with what remains of his cannon still hooked to his arm. Orion, breathing heavily, shoves him back down into the ground, servos locking onto his shoulder plates. D shouts in retaliation, pushing against Orion’s hold. They go back and forth for a long moment, Orion doing his best to hold D down while he jerks and screams at him with so much anger and rage. The Matrix gives him the power to keep him pinned to the ground, but his strength won’t last for long, not after taking part in such a tiring fight. Still, his words carry through with just as much power.

“D! You have to listen to me! I know you’re angry, I know that everything has been going wrong…and I’m sorry things have ended up this way!” Their optics lock, red and blue. “But we have the ability to choose how to shape our future, and whether we make it better or worse.”

With his denta bared, D grabs Orion’s arm with a death grip. Orion forces himself to stay in place, to keep the majority of his strength concentrated on keeping the other bot down. His pedes slip on the ground as D pushes against him, almost desperate in his attempt to break free.

“This entire system was made to put other bots over each other! It has to be destroyed!” he roars.

D frees one of his arms, and he tries to throw a punch at Orion. Right at the Matrix. But when his fist collides with his chassis, it barely makes a crack. He couldn’t do any more damage to the Prime in his current state. Their optics are still on each other. D’s servo twitches as it falls back at his side. He still tries to get up. Orion grabs hold of his shoulder once more, and speaks much quieter now, his once strained expression falling into a somber one.

“Destroying everything will only make it harder to move on. Sentinel is dead now. Everything he built was undone when he died. We can’t plunge Iacon into war. No one will be safe, not even us.”

D shakes his head, drawing in a sharp breath. “I need to fix this.”

“You will. I’m only here to keep you from going too far.”

That is the only reason why Orion is able to keep going. The hope that nothing else bad will come from learning the truth. The hope that somewhere through all of D’s hatred, there was love. Love that Orion has kept in the forefront.

Orion has almost gotten used to D’s snarl, his angry gaze. When it falters for the first time since their last happy interaction with each other, he’s close to being surprised. He looks at him now almost wistfully, with rage still glinting in his red optics.

“I have already. You can’t undo what I’ve done,” he mutters thickly, words a tired declaration.

Orion hadn’t seen Sentinel’s death. He hasn’t even seen the body. All he’s seen is Iacon’s center reduced to rubble, with so much smoke and fire encircling the rest of the able bots now unsure of what to do next. And he saw the guards D killed, their bodies pummeled and cast aside around the plaza. There was damage all throughout the city that he hasn’t seen, but knows is there.

“No, I can’t,” he responds, “But I can put us on the path to rebuilding. We can.”

Even if nothing his friend did can be undone, if everything had to be fixed one piece at a time, then Orion would strive for nothing less than that. He has the Thirteen Primes support, and Primus’, and that would be all he needed.

That would all, plus his friend. D-16. The bot that was always thorough in his work, strong-willed, and most of all, wishing to do the right thing.

Sentinel may have twisted their world into one unrecognizable by the Primes, and by any bot who was online when they were Cybertron’s protectors. Orion and D weren’t around to see what life was like in Iacon, when energon flowed freely, and all bots were equal. It was in the past.

But it could be resurrected in the future.

D finally stops struggling. The energy that once motivated his movements was subdued. He was scanning Orion’s face as if looking for something. Orion lets him look. His mask slides away from his mouth, and he takes a cool breath in.

When D sees his face this time, he can see the old Orion peeking through. It’s impossible, he thinks, after he’s changed so much in such a small amount of time. It isn’t, however. His friend is there, looking at him not pitifully, not with horror. With compassion.

And he questions everything once again, this time about his own actions. Would the future he wants to build be better than Sentinel’s? Would the other bots of Iacon be willing to let him lead? Would he have to lead through tyranny? Would he be able to make decisions on his own? Would the Quintessons be a threat? Could he find a way to make Energon flow once more without the Matrix?

Who would he become if he killed Pax?

As much as he wanted to bring his old self justice, he couldn’t see any of his past wishes coming true now. The energon miners would suffer even more. So would B and Elita. So would Starscream and Soundwave and Shockwave, and the rest of the exiled High Guard. He would avenge his past, but he would endanger everyone’s future.
“D, you can’t do this on your own. Neither can I,” Orion says.

They both wanted the same thing, didn’t they? They wanted to stop Sentinel, and D did stop him. They wanted to find the Matrix, and Orion did find it.

That was their goal from the beginning.

“W-We stopped him…just like we wanted to…” D coughs roughly, voice wavering, “Now…after everything…you want me to help?”

Orion looks around at the destruction they’ve both caused. It’s not pretty. He looks back at D, cracking a smile.

“I watch your back, you watch mine,” is the old saying that he decides to bring back once more.

D was in so much pain, but in that moment, he let it wash over him. He’s calm as the adrenaline wears off, and every part of him, laden with cuts and wounds, is unmoving. He closed his optics for a long while, listening to the gunfire slowly start to die down. He hears Orion breathing, feels his servos still locked onto his shoulders, now more comforting than forcing him down.

When he opens his optics again, they slowly melt from red to a deep orange. Orion shudders in a breath, unable to hide his relieved smile.

“D…” he gasps.

He lets go of D’s shoulders, allowing him to sit up. D does so, albeit slowly and with a few pained grunts. His right arm strains with the weight of his now sliced in half cannon, the metal still tinged red from Orion’s axe slicing cleanly through it. Orion kneels down in front of him awkwardly; all of the new armor he’s been equipped with is weighing him down along with the added exhaustion from fighting. D feels his own suffocating him; it’s all too much. He wants to get to his pedes and move, do something, anything. But he can’t bring himself to walk away from Orion.

His friend lifts a servo, and his digits trace thin lines over the dented arm guards on his left arm. It’s methodical, meant to be a comfort. D feels his spark lurch. Just as he’s savoring the slight connection between them, Orion leans forward and wraps him in his embrace. If he thought he felt guilt before, it was nothing compared to the guilt that comes washing over him as Orion’s arms encircle his shoulders and his chin rests into the crook of his neck. D was never one for being overly touchy, even with Orion. The most the other bot got was a pat on the shoulder and a fist bump. Orion never intruded into his personal space. This was their first hug, if memory serves them right. And both of them were beginning to cry. Tears fall down their faces as D starts to apologize, his voice shot and wavering.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. This-this has gone too far,” he stammers, “I didn’t let go of your hand, you know that? I would never-”

Orion cuts in, tightening his hold on D. “I know you didn’t. Don’t think for a nanosecond that I blame you.”

“Sentinel shot at us.” D holds back a sob. “It was him.”

Orion hums and says nothing more about it. He holds him and doesn’t say another word. D processor barely picks through his thoughts. He’s too tired to think about nothing more than how strange yet wonderful this closeness was. Somehow, he’s able to command his arms to raise so he can hug Orion back, despite sporting two heavy wounds and multiple scratches and dents.

When Orion feels D shift in his arms, his own retreat to his sides. He lets him go so he can sit up straighter, look at his face fully. Blue tear stains cover his face, expressing a mix of sadness and relief. He looks at Orion’s chest, at the Matrix sitting over his spark whirring with life. It seems to stare right back at D, but the silver bot doesn’t feel threatened by its presence now.

“So you found the Matrix.”

“The Thirteen Primes…they were there, in the well of Allsparks. They entrusted it to me.” Orion lightly chuckles, raising a brow. “It’s cooler in person, yeah?”

D’s laugh is strained, but it’s good in nature. He knocks his knuckles into Orion’s helm.

“And it made you even taller,” he quips.

“You’re taller too, how-” Orion stops himself, optics traveling to D’s chest. D’s smile turns down. Slowly, his scarred chest plate opens, revealing a brilliant purple light.

“Megatronus’ cog…”

D waits for an angry response, a chastising one. He shouldn’t have taken it. Perhaps he didn’t deserve to wield its extra power either, the power of the greatest Prime. Orion does nothing like that. D should have seen it coming by now.

His face taken in one of Orion’s servos, digits resting under his chin. He was always gentle when touching D, whether he’d be brushing debris off of his frame or tapping him to get his attention. D leans into his touch like he’s been starved from it for cycles.

“Oh, D. You look so different,” his friend sighs.

Another tear slides down D’s face. Orion lifts his other servo to wipe it away gently.

“So do you. You’ve taken responsibility. You’re acting differently, but…” he pauses, searching his face, “You’re still the old Pax. I can see it.”

“And you’re still the old D-16,” Orion replies, blinking away his own tears.

It’s so strange to see him here. Their fight begins to replay in D’s mind. Every swing and shot he took at Orion had the intention of harming him. How could he have been so foolish, when mere moments before he was lamenting his fall into the well of Allsparks? His guilt remains, but it’s lessened by the presence of the other bot in front of him. Orion is here, even after he lost him over the edge of the plaza. He’s here, even after he told himself to attack him with the intention to harm him.

“I didn’t think I would have told you that way.”

Thinking about how he held Orion over that dark chasm right after he jumped in front of the blast made for Sentinel made him recall their confession.

“About?” Orion begins to ask, yet realization soon settles into his expression, and he looks down. “Ah…neither did I.”

“We did, though. I always knew. Somehow.” D puts a servo on the back of Orion’s neck, softly laughing to himself. “I wasn’t going to tell you.”

Orion exhales quickly, smiling once more. He loosely shrugs one shoulder. “Yet here we are.”

It was an honest moment in between all of the chaos and confusion of battle. It was an honest one, nonetheless. D wasn’t planning on acting on his feelings ever. Harboring them would have been enough for him.

He’s glad it didn’t turn out that way.

Slowly, their faceplates inch closer to one another. Neither of them are sure if they meant to or not. Their lips are inches away.

“Orion!”

The two are snapped from the moment, jerking away from each other. Their heads turn to the other side of the plaza. Elita and B were there, running toward them with their weapons at the ready. D only sees a blur of red, blue, and silver move past him. Suddenly, Orion was blocking the two, servos held up in defense.

“Wait, you two! Don’t shoot!” he orders.

The two stop their pursuit, skidding to a halt in front of Orion. Confusion is etched onto their faces.

“Pax, what are you doing?” Elita demands angrily.

“It’s over,” he responds, “The fight’s over.”

“But D was-” B starts, “He said he’d destroy everything.”

“No.” Orion looks over his shoulder. The two follow his gaze down to D, still hunched over himself, watching them with regret and teary guilt. They immediately see that his optics are no longer red. Elita’s shoulders sag. B gasps, unbelieving, retracting his blades and battle mask.

“D!”

B runs to kneel down beside D and hooks his arms around D’s shoulder. D holds onto B for support as he stands, holding back any sound of discomfort. Elita is much slower to put away her weapons. She watches B help D to his pedes, and notices that even though he’s helping him, there’s hesitance in his movements, hidden just under his relief.
“So he had a change of spark,” she muses, albeit suspicious.

Orion exhales. “I didn’t do it alone. He made the choice to stop.”

“I’m glad you’re alright, D. And you too, Orion,” B adds with a glance in Orion’s direction, “You guys look so different. I mean, it’s awesome, but different. In a good way, of course!”

Orion smiles lightly, subconsciously looking over his own frame. His armor was covered in cuts and dust, yet every piece shone under Iacon’s lights as if they were brand new. They were, in a sense.

D also reacts to B’s good-natured comment. His laugh sounds rough and forced, but the tired grin that’s on his face shows the three that he means it. As soon as it’s there, however, it disappears, and replacing it is a somber frown. He lets go of B’s supporting arm, and the other bot steps away. When D looks at Orion, the Prime simply nods, supportive. He takes a moment to get his bearings and to find the right words to say.

“I’m sorry, B. Elita. I let too much of my anger cloud my judgement. All of you are right, nothing will be fixed if everything is destroyed.” He shakes his head, all of his previous actions flashing through his processor, and his voice wavers. “And I did kill Sentinel. I-I don’t…regret that. But I regret everything that happened afterward. Forgive me, please.”

Elita and B are quiet. The pink bot is looking far off at the landscape of Iacon. B is looking between the three standing with him. He’s the first to respond, putting a tentative servo on D’s arm.

“I’m just glad you’re alright…well, more or less,” he shares wholeheartedly.

The tension that was building up in D’s expression fades away in the slightest. He gives B a thankful nod.

“Elita?” Orion calls.

Elita hasn’t spoken yet. Her digits drum over her arm guard, arms cross tight over her chassis. All three of them are worried about what she might say, knowing of her sharp tongue and blunt attitude. But this time, her words are calm.

“It’s like Pax says,” she states, “We’re in this together. Not just ourselves. All of us.”

It’s a truth that they all know in their sparks. They began this journey together, and there would be no better way to finish it in each other’s company. It will be like Alpha Trion declared. All will be one.

Just as quickly as they were turned against each other, they were back as comrades.

“You found the Matrix,” Elita begins.

Orion’s servos reach up his chassis. He looks down at it, its powerful glowing continuing.

“Primus entrusted it to me…and the future of Cybertron,” he recites what Alpha Trion told him.

B walks over, optics wide.

“That means…” he pauses, then exclaims in a louder, excited voice, “You’re a Prime! Ha ha! Wow! A real Prime!”

Orion nods. B’s phrasing of the term is understandable. Cybertron hasn’t seen a real, living Prime in fifty cycles. He was the first since Alpha Trion and Megatronus and the other Thirteen Primes. For a moment, he wants to dismiss himself, tell his friends that he is no Prime. Yet he is, and denying it would be disregarding Primus’ wishes.

“They named me Optimus Prime.”

The name is foreign in his mouth, the syllables cloddish on his glossa. It sounds like it could be the name of a leader. A wise, strong one.

“Optimus, huh?” Elita muses, knocking his shoulder with her own. “It suits you.”

Even though it is a new name, a new identity, Orion cannot deny that it fills him with pride. It is a title he will carry with honor and nothing less.

“What do you think, D?”

Even now, he turns to his friend for his thoughts. And he wants to know what he thinks, truthfully. D looks him over, grappling with so many of his own thoughts at the same time. Even then, he responds with familiarity.

“I’m still calling you Pax.”

If Orion hadn’t been convinced before that his friend was on his side once again, this would have been the deciding moment. If only by a little, the pressure on his spark lessens upon hearing his usual tone of voice come through, laden with exhaustion, yes, but still reflecting the bot’s feelings. It’s him regarding that he’s changed, but he’s far from treating him differently. Orion barely registers himself walking over to D’s side.

“That’s alright with me,” he mutters, unable to stop another grin from appearing on his face.

Before any of them can say anything more, the sound of afterburners screaming reaches their audials. Three alt-modes swirl through the sky, tucking into a sharp left in the direction of the plaza. All four of the bots are immediately on their guard, brandishing their weapons, or servos, in D’s case. When they get closer, they recognize who the fliers are.

Starscream transforms back before touching the ground, landing on his pedes with the graceful skill of a bot whose done it many times. He holds out his arms, the thin, sleek ray guns hooked to his shoulders ready to fire. Orion is staring down both barrels.

“This ends now!” His voice crackles.

Soundwave and Shockwave land on either side of him, their own weapons raised to Bee and Elita respectively. D is the only one who is not aimed at. He notices this quickly, raising himself from his fighting position and stalking forward, optics locked onto the leader of the trio.

“Lower your weapons!” he booms with an unshakable tone of command.

Shockwave and Soundwave are able to hide their emotions physically upon hearing the order. Starscream’s face, however, turns into a disbelieving sneer.

“D-16?! What are you doing?!” he shouts.

D stays collected, though he feels the urge to match the High Guard commander’s venom with that of his own. He keeps his words blunt.

“I’ve ended this fight. It’s finished.”

Starscream blinks and begins shaking his head, as if he doesn’t believe it.

“W-What about taking care of Sentinel's forces? Rebuilding Iacon?” he stammers.

“This is a cease fire?” Shockwave questions, and soon lowers his gun.

Soundwave does the same. Now, only Starscream is holding his weapons high. He turns one gun’s direction onto D, the other still locked on to Orion. The Prime doesn’t advance. It would do more harm than good at that moment. If he lowered his weapons, then he’d have a chance to speak. D does a good job at keeping his cool. Unlike the duo’s previous scrimmage, where physical fighting and harsh threats were used to signify power, this one saw D trying to reason with words.

D feels he’s completely inept at any type of speech. It’s almost called foolish by himself. This exiled seeker has lived with only violence and treachery for the last fifty cycles. D expects him to fire on both of them any click now. Still, he tries to bring his thoughts to life with words, words that would surely be too short and lacking inspiration. It would be the truth he’s found, nonetheless.

“I’ve realized that tearing this city down will cause even more pain to our kind. Fighting will divide us even further, and I do not want anyone else to suffer.” His words bring more disbelief to Starsceam’s face. He grits his denta, fumbles for a start to a retort. Behind him, the other two bots exchange a glance, considering D’s statement in a much more reserved manner. D lets them stew, focusing his attention on the despicably sneaky bot that still had his guns pointing at his helm.

“So we’re going to let everything fall into chaos?” he finally asks.

“No, we’re reunifying,” D responds.

Starscream scoffs quickly. “Like I said before, a reunified Cybertron is a myth. Too much deception has happened in these halls.”

Back on the surface, in the High Guard sanctuary, Starscream did proclaim the same thing. So much time has passed. Sentinel used that time to twist their government, their way of living, into systems that benefited him. It is all some bots knew of, like Orion and D themselves.

The Prime, as if knowing when, jumps into the conversation. He isn’t deterred by the gun ready to fire at his chest.

“It may seem impossible, but if we stand together, we can right these wrongs,” he says, looking between the three bots, “There is a way to change this system. It’s going to take time and support.”

“But it’s not impossible.” D finishes.

Starscream looks back at his allies. They are clearly considering D and Orion’s words. He turns his head back to the Prime and D, lips pursed tightly, servos clenched and shaking.

“We’re all going to need your help, Starscream, and all of the High Guard,” Orion appeals to him once more, the look in his optics trusting. After a moment of pause, and one small tilt of his chin upward, he declares, “You are no longer exiled from Iacon.”

This finally gets Starscream’s angered facade to crack. His shoulders lose their tension, and he turns his weapons away from the two. His red optics flit from their faces, to the rubble-infested ground they stand on. If this declaration came from anyone else besides Orion, it surely wouldn’t have swayed him. But Starscream is intuitive; he sensed the Matrix’s power inside of Orion when he witnessed his return and saw glimpses of his battle with D-16. This is an official order from a true Prime.

“We’re getting our positions back?” is all he can bring himself to say, the damage to his voice box evident as his vocals waver and crackle.

“Well, it will be different than before.” Orion shakes his head, processor full of questions and possible strategies to tackle this big of an endeavor. “I’m not sure how we’ll arrange it all just yet, but I promise that there will be equality, no matter the position.”

A promise from a Prime is as official as it can be in Starscream’s mind. Though his trust isn’t fully put on Orion, he faces him now with a hint of hope shining in his optics. He exhales sharply, bordering on a disbelieving chuckle.

“We’ll aid you, Prime,” he says.

“Affirmative,” Soundwave agrees.

Shockwave adds a moment later with a matter of fact tone. “It is the logical choice.”

“Thank you, Starscream,” Orion thanks and nods to each of the three, “Soundwave. Shockwave.”

They all give a semblance of a nod back. For now, a deal for passivity is struck. How long it will last, none of them know. Orion hopes that in the future, if there are any disputes, they can be solved with words instead of actions. Already, D has changed in this regard. Once so ready to charge into action, now keeping the greater good of Cybertron at the forefront. Orion gives out his first orders to the three members of the High Guard.

“Fan out across the plaza. Help any bot that needs assistance, and round up the rest of the High Guard.”

Soundwave and Shockwave turn without another word, transforming and taking to the sky. Starscream hangs back, sauntering closer to D. The silver bot lets him inch closer, standing his ground.

“Just because I respect the Prime, doesn’t mean it’s the same for you,” the seeker hisses with a frown.

D challenges it with a proud grin.

“Hah. There’s probably no way to earn all of your respect, Starscream, Prime or not,” he retorts.

Starscream’s red optics narrow. They remind Orion for the shortest click of how D’s looked earlier, full of anger and resentment. It once again shows his friend’s change of spark. The High Guard commander begins to back away, holding D’s gaze under he’s at the edge of the plaza. He jumps off of it, seconds later shooting through the sky in his jet mode, leaving a dark trail of gray smoke behind him.

As D watches him soar off, Orion turns to their other friends.

“Elita, B,” he calls, and they walk further up onto the plaza where him and D now stand, “I may be a Prime now, but I’ll need you both by my side.”
Elita raises a brow. “I don’t know. I have a pretty good gig in waste management.”

“Well, I do owe you a promotion. How does…Major Elita sound?” Orion offers.

“Hmm, how about Commander?” she counters with a small grin.

Orion laughs. “Even better.” He then turns to B, who looks up at him when he sees him turn his attention. He puts a hand on the smaller bot’s shoulder proudly. “And I’m sorry, B, I can’t let you go back to sublevel fifty. I need you working with us.”

B’s frown disappears quickly. He starts bouncing in his spot, smiling wide with excitement.

“Are you serious? This is the greatest day of my life! I get to work for the government!” he exclaims.

That gets the three of them to crack a smile. Orion knows it will be tough to keep this positivity going throughout the rest of their mission. Primus only knows what they’ll have to do, how long they’ll have to work, to rebuild their city, and soon after, their planet.

He’s drawn back to his friend once again, optics wandering over his battle-scarred frame that hadn’t been his for more than a solar-cycle. He wishes he could let him rest, that all of them could rest. There is too much to be done still, too many immediate wrongs that need to be righted. Too many words he needs to say to D.

“D.”

To think that he said the name while he was on the brink of death, while pleading for peace, without light-hearted intention. His friend only has to turn his helm to look at him; they’re only a couple steps away from each other.

“Pax.”

D’s voice is soft, uncharacteristically if Orion was going off of his old manner of speaking. Tough to everyone. Blunt when he needed to be, which was more often than not.
“Whatever comes next, I want you to lead with me.” He grabs his servo quickly, as if it’s what he needs to keep going. “I promised the Primes I would save Cybertron from war, that I would save you.”

D frowns, orange optics downcast. The volume of his voice indicates it is meant for only Orion to hear.

“I’ve made too many mistakes. I don’t know if you can trust me with this. I don’t think I can trust myself yet.”

Orion’s afraid he’ll start to cry again if he hears one more word that D says to put himself down. He squeezes D’s servo tight, making him lock optics with him once more.
“Let me promise something to you. I promise we’ll do this together,” he says wholeheartedly, “If you have doubts, you can always lean on me.”

The last time D held Orion’s hand, he was teetering on being offline, inflicted with a wound so horrid. The last time he held it was right before he was forced to let go of it. Orion’s hands feel warm this time. There’s life flowing through him, energon pumping through his fuel lines. He isn’t falling through Cybertron’s core. He’s here, with him.
He wouldn’t disappoint Orion. If Orion still has faith in him after all he’s done, then he would have to put a bit of trust in his abilities.

“And you can expect the same from me,” he vows.

Soon their servos separate. All four of them stand on top of the plaza, looking on as their troops gather themselves nearby. They weave around the rubble, aid each other, look to Orion. They had seen his return, felt and saw his power. They saw him return his friend to their side. This is the bot they turn to.

A sudden light appears somewhere in the group, its glow a pale light blue. They all turn to Orion. The Matrix has begun to glow in his chassis.

“So…this is new,” Elita quips.

Orion can feel the Matrix calling for his attention. He answers, opening his chassis and taking the Matrix in his servos. He lifts it gently and the light grows brighter, reflecting light in his blue optics. Though he’s not sure how, it speaks to him without a voice. He strides forward, his gaze down on the miner bots he recruited to help fight and the High Guard members that have regrouped.

With strong arms, he raises the Matrix high above his helm. Its light glows brighter, like a shining beacon. And with the light comes the rumble of the ground below their pedes. The empty cracks and gaps begin to glow with the same light as the Matrix. Clicks later, something rushes to the surface.

Flowing blue energon.

The Matrix Orion holds has called their life source back. It bursts up into the once empty pits. It begins to flow through the old ducts carved around the architecture of the city. Behind the plaza, it rushes down these ducts, creating a solid waterfall cascading over broken metal. Bot’s voices begin to rise up. Declarations of victory, of amazement, and of joy fill the once tense atmosphere. Even Elita, B, and D can’t hide their awe. They watch in real time as their planet receives new life.

Orion keeps the Matrix raised, knowing there is one more thing to be done with its power. From the pool of energon flowing on the plaza, smaller circular lights appear. They fly through the air gently and fan out across the crowd. These lights are transformation cogs, the ones that rightfully belonged to the cogless miners. Each bot had a cog approach them. Their chassis opened up, welcoming their cog, a long lost part of themselves, like a friend. As each of them had their own settle into their chest, their frames were lit with newfound colors. Their outer plating is reconfigured. Their once dull paint jobs are stripped away to reveal glossier, polished metal. Statures are heightened. They gain weapons and armor.

They are finally all they are meant to be.

When Orion finally lowers the Matrix, and it is safely in his chest once more, he looks out at the crowd. Miners and High Guard alike, their battle over for the time being, sharing a moment of victory. He can’t help but smile proudly.

“And now we stand here together as one.”

This makes the other three bots smile as well. None of them had ever seen a crowd so full of vigor, and none of them had ever heard cheers as happy as the ones their comrades yell to the highest rooftop. Even amidst what was left over after their battle against Sentinel, the ruins of buildings and architecture and the defeated members of Sentinel’s forces, they continue to cheer for their savior. For their new Prime and his friends.

Orion surveys the crowd, spirits lifted by their declarations, until he’s pulled away from the sight by Elita’s servo on his shoulder. She looks up at him with a newfound brightness in her optics, smiling lightly, so unlike her but at the same time exactly who Orion thought she’d be behind her stern facade.

“Me and B’ll go see if anyone needs more help,” she says, turning to B and tilting her head in the direction of the crowd.

“Yeah, we’ll go check up on everyone.” Bee raises a questioning brow. “Then what?”

“One step at a time, kid,” Elita levels, knocking her fist into B’s forehead playfully.

Chuckling, Orion gives them a nod of approval. Then the two step off of the plaza and blend into the crowd, stopping by the smaller groups of bots and speaking with them. Already, they were beginning to display true actions of leadership. He couldn’t have picked any bot better than them.

Them, and D. The silver bot has been silent during their conversation, so when he turns to him, he shows him a level of concern.

“What’s on your mind, D?” His voice is low, quiet. D doesn’t respond, simply keeping his lips drawn into a far-off frown, optics avoiding him. Orion rolls his own, and he gives his friend a small shove.

“Come on, I can tell you’re thinking about something,” he says, then adds quickly afterward, “Are you alright?”

D finally faces him, putting on a weak smile.

“I could be better.” His frown returns, and he looks out at the city. Orion doesn’t pry with words, yet D knows he has to answer him. If he didn’t, he’d regret it himself, too. “You’ve been given a new name. It’s new…i-it’s inspiring. I don’t think I want people to think of me as D-16 anymore. It isn’t a real callsign, like Elita…or Jazz...or Optimus.”

Orion can’t help but let a humored chuckle escape him. “I remember you told me you didn’t want to change it until you got higher on the tier list.” He laughs when he recalls the memory, bumping shoulders with D. “Or if something…stupid were to come over you.”

“Yeah, I did phrase it like that,” D replies, “And I guess it’s true.”

“So what will it be?”

D ponders this question. He never truly wanted a name, like Orion said, until after he proved himself and worked for it. There are so many he can choose from, so many that would fit. But he wants it to have meaning. An ode to something, or someone. His servo rests over the burn mark of Megatronus on his chest armor.

“It’ll be in honor of Megatronus,” he states with finality, “Megatron.”

With the Prime’s cog in his chest, D believes that he shouldn’t bear its power in secrecy. As soon as he says it, his chassis takes on a lighter weight, as if the Prime himself were thanking him for the action.

D isn’t sure if Megatronus forgives him for killing so many bots. He doubts that he will, or if any of the Thirteen will. And yet, if they gave Orion their support in saving him, then maybe he isn’t too far swayed to the negatives in their opinion of him.

Another reason for him to prove himself, to fix his mistakes.

Orion practically beams at him with pride and adoration. It seems he likes the new callsign. He once again takes D’s servos in his own.

“I can still call you, D, right?” He tilts his head.

D replies easily, “Of course you can.”

Perhaps to the many other Cybertronians they would meet, they would only be Optimus Prime and Megatron. But to their friends, and to each other, they’d be Orion Pax and D-16 all the same. Changed, but still who they truly are at spark.

Now that it was only the two of them standing on the high-mounted plaza, they had small fleeting clicks of time in each other’s company. Their smiles become privately sweet, laden with exhaustion and trying to push off the pains of battle. Love seeps through even then.

“I never thought I’d do this,” D exhales in a whisper, mostly to himself.

“What? Do what?” Orion teases, knowing exactly what he’s referring to.

“Pax,” he warns.

The Prime laughs once more, and it sounds so bright to D. He’d been listening to its sweet ring for so long. It’s good to hear it again. Orion puts a servo on his back plate, a subtle nudge telling him to go ahead and get on with whatever he wants to do. And he does.

He kisses Orion, who was waiting patiently for him to do so. His spark soars with such a lovely, light feeling. Any last bits of anger that he was clinging onto in these last few moments are subdued, any immediate doubt relieved. This reality that he convinced himself would never come to fruition is taking place; he’s holding it in his arms. It’s kissing him back with just as much delight, just as much raw hope.

They don’t entirely separate after it ends. Orion lazily rests his forehead on D’s, optics shut. D looks at him, looks at every glint in his armor and the sloping angles of his face. He wonders how it all worked out.

It was because he listened to Orion’s words. He realized that even though he had been lied to his whole life, the destruction he at first wished for wouldn’t heal his wounds. Love would. Comradery would. Hope would.

What would have happened if he had continued down that bitter and angry road? Would peace have come in the same manner, or would it have been too far off for him to see in his lifetime?

This D-16, this Megatron, wouldn’t have to find out the answers to those questions. He would be a hand of reunification alongside Cybertron’s newest Prime. He would bring his planet peace from the Quintessons.

Orion and D, Optimus and Megatron, meet their crowd of allies under the plaza, and they all enter the city of Iacon as heroes.

—

Afterwards

The reunified Cybertron that the citizens of Iacon promise to make a reality takes time to accomplish. After the defeat of Sentinel by the hands of the bot formerly known as D-16, Orion Pax, once a miner bot, recovers the Matrix from Cybertron’s core. He is dubbed Optimus Prime, and uses the Matrix to bring energon back to Cybertron’s surface. The transformation cogs that were stolen from the miner bots before they came online were returned. Now, every bot in Iacon had the power to transform.

Optimus, Megatron, and their allies march into Iacon after their battle. They are spread around the city to assist the other bots, who only saw the video message of Sentinel’s betrayal, and hadn’t seen the battle at the plaza. An official statement is broadcasted some time later, after the broadcast tower is repaired. Optimus Prime and Megatron address the citizens of Iacon officially, recounting the journey they took place in, starting at the Iacon 5000 and ending in their returning of the miner’s transformation cogs.

Iacon rejoices. They accept Optimus and Megatron’s spark felt statement, knowing that their words are full of truths unsaid by Sentinel beforehand.

Iacon tower is used as their headquarters. After clearing out the rubble and repairing the building to the best of their abilities, the group of bots sit down to make their first orders. All of them appear before each other as a temporary council, with Optimus and Megatron at the head of the decisions. Before any official government is made, all of them will assist in Iacon’s rebuilding.

It takes less than a jour to clear out the damages of battle throughout the city. Every citizen helps out in whatever way they can. Their mission is not only to ensure every Cybertronian is given equality, but to create a system that will be able to be used to fight against the Quintessons.

That time comes sooner than expected. Though the Quintessons now have access to energon flowing on the surface, they know that the Cybertronians are still a threat to them. Optimus sees that the time to create a protection force to keep Iacon safe has come. He calls for Iacon’s bravest to be a part of this military. They are named Autobots. When they first join and prove themselves, they are stamped with one of two Autobot insignias. The first, for soldiers, Commanders, and Scouts.  The second the High Guard and Megatron himself are given. The symbol of Megatronus, reminiscent of the symbol Sentinel gave D-16, is the insignia they choose to wear.

Many familiar and new faces are introduced to the cause, bots that will become well-known in their own rights. Optimus and Megatron work with all of them, friendships and trust being built after every fight and every step toward peace. All throughout their trials, B and Elita are there as their most trusted friends.

The war with the Quintessons enters a new chapter. Many battles are fought, won, and lost. Many stories of great valor, bravery, and teamwork arise throughout the vorns. Throughout the entire war, Optimus and Megatron stand together with the people of Cybertron. They make mistakes, like any leader does. But they don’t let their mistakes get the better of them.

They all stand as one.

The End