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There were plenty of close calls over the vorns.
Orion Pax was notorious for getting into trouble, even before the war. The stories were endless. Most revolved around him undermining the resident authorities in some fashion, with deviations regarding what his old career was depending on the story teller. His closest friends knew the truth, but most opted against saying anything for the sake of protecting Orion’s old contacts.
After the war began, Megatron went his own way, and Orion Pax was born anew, Optimus Prime was just as difficult to keep in one piece. He’d been blown up at least a hundred times, starved and stranded, shot so full of bullets one could read the news through him, and otherwise beaten into scrap so many times that going over all his medical history was a punishment for misbehaving nurses.
Despite all that, he’d been rather good at not dying for millions of years. Somehow, likely through being Primus’s favorite, he pulled through.
Until he didn’t.
The first time Optimus Prime died, it was an absolute catastrophe. Fighting for their dying world, their Prime, their anchor and ever present guiding light, finally met his end. It was an accident, a pure and unplanned accident. No one could have predicted that one normal fight between Optimus and Megatron could have possibly ended with the former of the two offlining.
But that’s what happened anyway. Optimus took one wrong hit, hoping to save one of his soldiers. And then right there, on the battlefield, Megatron shot a hole clean through half his frame, blowing off an arm and obliterating most of his spark chamber. Optimus hadn’t even been able to scream before he went down, the Matrix refusing to part with his corpse even when Megatron made a half-sparked attempt to snag it before taking off in sheer and absolute confusion.
Ultra Magnus had been one of the first on the scene, and he remembered it clearly. The grief, the sheer sorrow. The pain of losing their leader, their Prime, and their friend. He knelt by Optimus’s side that grim cycle, and with all the composure he could muster, he and Kup were the ones to bring their fallen commander back to their people.
At first, no one could process the fact that their leader was gone. Optimus had been a friend and mentor to many, and so with his passing, few were able to even look at him and believe he was gone. Elita was crippled with grief, and Magnus himself was stuck in a state of shock even as he tried to keep things together.
Even Megatron seemed too stunned to actually do anything for a while and only engaged in meaningless skirmishes while reportedly wandering around looking baffled no matter the situation.
Eventually though, Optimus was placed within his coffin, an engraved piece of finery brought in from the last few surviving artisans of the era. Then, before he was laid to rest in the halls of the Primes, the Matrix was cut away from him and brought back to base.
The Matrix refused to tie itself to another during that dark time, and so was carried around in a box and later kept in a vault until there was time to worry about it.
But of course, Optimus Prime didn’t stay dead.
In less than a vorn, he was up and kicking again. He came wandering into the base, wobbly and more than a little lost, but very much functional. More than a few Autobots passed out at the sight or ran away screaming. Their Prime simply meandered about until Ratchet dragged him in for a checkup and confirmed that he functioned.
It was a shock, more than that, really. Embraces and tears were commonplace as everyone marveled and thanked Primus for their Prime’s return. Ultra Magnus questioned it, as did all of High Command. The answer they got left them relieved, but still feeling more than a few centuries older.
“Alpha Trion recovered and repaired me. He directed me back to the base while buying me time to escape from a Decepticon attack.”
It added up, for the most part. And so eventually, most chose not to question it. After all, their leader was back, and Optimus wasted no time reclaiming the Matrix and guiding them as he had before. Megatron himself was seemingly elated at Optimus's return, all but bouncing off the walls of his ship to fling himself into combat against his greatest foe once more.
And then Optimus died again.
“Ultra Magnus…” Optimus’s voice was weak and fading quickly. The monitor showed his spark rapidly deteriorating. Gathered around him were his closest friends, Ultra Magnus chief among them. Elita was unfortunately absent, her focus drawn to another battlefront. Word likely hadn’t even spread to her yet.
He grasped his battle brother’s servo, clinging tightly as he tried to mask his own trembling.
“I’m here, Prime. I’m here.” His response came out a mere croak, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as his leader, brother, and Prime faded right before his optics. Optimus needed support, and he was going to be there to give it until the bitter end.
“Our people… take care of them… guide them in my stead.” Optimus coughed, energon seeping from his vents and the terrible wound in his side from where Megatron had hit him once again. The medics had done all they could, but the damage was simply too severe.
It wasn’t fair for the gentlest among them to fall in such a way. And certainly not to a monster such as Megatron.
“I will, Optimus. I promise you.” And Magnus truly meant it. He meant it so much that when Optimus parted his chassis plating and the Matrix shone in the quiet medical bay, he couldn’t even bring himself to reject the Prime’s command.
“Until all… are one.” With that, he was gone. Ratchet sobbed quietly around the corner, Kup, Bumblebee, Prowl, and so many others grieved at his side. They touched his frame, memorizing its warmth until the metal went grey and what little life remained faded like the embers of an ancient star.
This time, they did not even have a coffin to lay him in.
Optimus’s body was stored, waiting to be buried properly when the war was less vicious, or hopefully, concluded entirely. Many came to visit his body, and Ultra Magnus was no exception, especially after the Matrix came to him.
Why it chose him? He could only assume it was because of Optimus. As for why he thought that? Well, the relic gave him the distinct impression it was not a fan of him as its wielder. It didn’t hurt, but as he carried it and politely refused the title of Prime out of respect for the mourning period the Autobots simply refused to let end, he found the relic remarkably uncooperative. It refused to offer him more than simple wisdom, and as it settled in his frame, it began to feel… uncomfortable.
It rattled around in his spark chamber, clinking and clanking just often enough for him to despise moving around with any degree of swiftness. It gave off an EM field of its own kind, one that left him eternally paranoid and on edge even when he had no reason to be. Recharging was a particular challenge with the Matrix prodding at him like a newbuild with too many questions and not enough patience. He could never parse out what it wanted from him, but the annoyance outweighed the benefits of having the Matrix bound to him.
The Matrix was, for lack of better words, a pain in the aft.
As such, when Optimus popped back up without a scratch on him after apparently having been stolen and revived by Shockwave of all bots, Ultra Magnus gave up the Matrix willingly and promptly leapt back into his former workload with a smile.
When Optimus explained his revival and both Ratchet and Prowl confirmed it was true, the fanfare was just as great as the first time he returned from death. And everyone, Ultra Magnus included, assumed this would be the end of Optimus’s death scares. Elita grew more protective than ever, and even Megatron taunted the Prime, constantly prodding at the fact that Optimus’s luck had to have run out now that he’d snuck his way out of death twice.
Megatron was wrong.
The third time Optimus fell, it was doing the one thing he always did.
Defending another.
Hot Rod had Megatron in a chokehold, Optimus flew in to help. Megatron used Hot Rod as a hostage, and promptly blew Optimus to pieces before getting shanked a few times himself. He took off in a hurry, and Optimus lay in the medbay not long later, again, dying.
Ultra Magnus was there as he was the first two times. The grief still hung over him like a shroud, but it was dimmer now. He saw as the situation seemed to repeat as it had before. His noble Prime clung to life desperately, then spoke a few words to Hot Rod as he had to Magnus vorns before.
“One day, an Autobot shall rise from our ranks… and use the power of the Matrix… to light our… darkest hour.” With what strength remained in him, Optimus tore the Matrix from himself and attempted to pass it off as he extinguished. Hot Rod fumbled the relic, but caught it before it could hit the floor.
And once more, the Autobots grieved before laying their beloved Prime to rest in the newly constructed hall of heroes out on an old space craft they let adrift.
The newly named Rodimus Prime beat himself up over Optimus’s passing as if it were somehow his fault. Bumblebee, Ironhide, Ratchet, Jazz, and Elita when she found out, were entirely inconsolable. High Command sat in bafflement as they adjusted to having a new Prime for what technically counted as the second time. Magnus personally spent several deca-cycles just replaying the scene, unsure if he should be weeping or waiting for something.
Megatron, according to reports, again seemed beyond befuddled. And this time, he was not alone. His commanders were skeptical, Shockwave especially so. The Decepticons refused to attack or otherwise mess with the drifting hall of heroes, and Magnus couldn’t blame them. There was an undercurrent of suspicion amongst the less personally attached to their Prime, and even a few of those particularly close to him.
Personally, Ultra Magnus thought it was well earned after Optimus’s prior two stunts.
Eventually, as Rodimus Prime somehow juggled the role of Prime over the next several vorns, suspicions died down. Ultra Magnus did his best to help the new Prime follow in the pedesteps of his predecessor, and they ended up having quite a few interesting discussions. Most of which revolved around the Matrix or Optimus in some fashion.
“You had the Matrix once, didn’t you?” Rodimus sat on the edge of his seat, helm in his servos. Magnus politely did not comment on it as he replied.
“I did, but the relic and I never really got along.” That earned a tired chuckle from his new Prime. Rodimus lifted his helm, optics staring off into the distance as if it would save him from having to head to the war room in a few groons to plan their next action in light of Megatron finally making moves again.
“At least I’m not crazy.” Rodimus touched his chassis tiredly, and as he did, Magnus saw just how much more… weary he looked overall. He’d grown under the Matrix, as Optimus had. But with Rodimus, it seemed to drain rather than invigorate him.
“It doesn’t hurt or anything, but the Matrix feels… impatient. It only responds to me when I really push, like it's distracted.” That was new.
“Can a relic even get distracted?” Rodimus mused to himself, and Ultra Magnus pondered. Clearly, the Matrix preferred its prior wielder, even if its exact reasoning was unknown.
“I don’t know. Optimus always had a unique connection to it and Primus. He was always at ease with the Matrix, and it answered him without hesitation.” He remembered every instance Optimus called on the relic. Compared to him, Ultra Magnus couldn’t get so much as a spark out of it, and it seemed Rodimus was having a similar issue.
It made that old suspicion stir in his spark.
“Seems like Optimus really was better than all of us.” Rodimus sighed, and in that moment, he saw the feelings of many an Autobot in their new leader.
“Perhaps.” He placed a servo on Rodimus’s shoulder, his smile softer than he’d usually allow.
“Optimus is our example, but he is not the only one who can make a difference.” Hoping to ease his weary leader, Magnus patted his back as he continued.
“Every time we act as he did, we too can bring the galaxy a little good.” Rodimus’s chevron raised a degree at that, and Ultra Magnus took that small victory.
Even without Optimus, they would make due.
That was what he told himself, the Autobots, and Rodimus.
Then of course, just as everyone began to accept that Optimus was gone and that Rodimus was to be their new and permanent Prime, their beloved god-chosen turned right back up again.
They’d been at a stalemate and searching through old pre-war ruins in search of classified Senatorial technology, and Rodimus, in his ignorance, somehow fulfilled Optimus’s prophecy by quite literally using the Matrix as a lamp when they were at the darkest point in the facility. Somehow, that light ended up showing their one and only Prime rummaging through a box looking all the part of a ghoul. Rodimus screamed, Ultra Magnus dropped his weapon, and the rest of their team either fainted or gawked.
Once everyone calmed down a bit, Optimus produced quite the tale. This time his story featured Quintesson reviving him accidentally while trying to piece him back together for ‘science’. How he ended up back on Cybertron after being ejected into space and why the Quintesson was in old ruins was beyond Magnus. But the Quint corpse Optimus showed them did corroborate his recounting.
Rodimus, one he was sure Optimus wasn’t a ghost, took one look at him, bawled his optics out, and promptly handed the Matrix right back over to escape the weight and guilt of his station. Magnus did not blame him in the slightest and busied himself with trying to help Optimus get the worst of the gore off him as they made their escape.
Again, Ultra Magnus gave the whole thing the benefit of the doubt. Optimus died three times and came back from each supposed offlinement perfectly functional. It was… strange. But not worth the energy of obsessing over.
Until it happened again.
Optimus was evacuating civilians in Polyhex during a Decepticon raid when a building collapsed on him. Everyone rightfully panicked, and Elita, who had taken to remaining close by due to all the frequent scares, threw herself into digging him out. They swiftly discovered a corpse.
There were no last words, no final declaration. Just another instance of their Prime dying on them.
Whispers began circulating almost immediately, stating that somehow, he’d crawl his way out of whatever pit he found himself in. Ultra Magnus could not bring himself to shut them down because a small part of him waited for that exact scenario as their Prime’s body was hauled back to base.
Rodimus, now Hot Rod, took back up a leadership position to keep everyone calm. He refused the Matrix, and so did Magnus simply because he felt like it might have been staring at him uncomfortably from where it proudly rested in Optimus’s chassis still. Ultimately, it was decided that the Matrix was to be left in a containment vault while Optimus was buried. There was little fanfare this time, mostly because of the situation and due to Prowl making it quite clear they couldn’t afford the loss of morale.
Their Prime was laid to rest for the fourth time in a little cemetery in Iacon.
Elita stood over the grave shaking in what he could only assume was rage before kicking his headstone and cursing at the dent it gave her.
Megatron threw a fit in his battleship, reportedly throwing Starscream out a window while screaming about how Optimus wasn’t allowed to die so pathetically.
Exactly five vorns later, Optimus practically appeared out of the ether. He turned up during a storm, covered helm to pede in mud while waving sheepishly as if he hadn’t just apparently dug himself out of his own grave. His explanation when he was corralled inside?
“I was not deactivated. I was merely in stasis. I’m surprised you buried me so far under. It took quite a while to claw my way out once I woke.” Prowl threw a datapad at the wall that cycle. Jazz just chucked Optimus a wet rag to clean off with. Elita, when she hightailed it back to the base, threw herself into Optimus’s arms before hitting him with a random stick she picked up until she felt satisfied. Bumblebee, Ironhide, and several other close comrades of the Prime gloried in his return but lacked their usual fanfare.
Usual.
This was becoming usual.
Ultra Magnus was unsure how to feel about that even after Optimus took back his Matrix, thanked Hot Rod for his efforts, and resumed leadership like nothing happened.
By the time Optimus Prime died for the fifth time, the Autobots stopped believing death had any permanent effects on their leader.
The fifth death came when Optimus was out on the field with a strike team, targeting a Decepticon energon depot. Devastator happened to be there, and while Optimus laid down covering fire, he was scrapped with one well aimed strike from the Decepticon combiner’s blaster.
There was barely enough of him left for anyone to identify his corpse after Bumblebee and the other members of the team managed to knock Devastator out for a while. The scout grabbed what he could of Optimus and the indestructible relic that was the Matrix before booking it back to their encampment.
This time, there was some debate over how they should feel.
“He’s clearly dead. I mean, scrap, he’s scrapped!” Jazz gestured wildly to the piece of leg Bee managed to drag back with him and the Matrix sitting politely on the table as if it were too good to be touched or associated with anyone other than Optimus himself.
Magnus glared at it as the chatter continued.
“I’m not so sure anymore.” Hot Rod chimed in, already looking exhausted. He was evidently not in the mood to play Prime again after already having done so twice, once unofficially.
“Does it even matter? For now, Optimus Prime is deceased, and we have a war to run!” Prowl slammed a fist on the table, knocking the Matrix down only for Bumblebee to catch it mostly on reflex. Hot Rod visibly winced. Magnus tried not to shrivel in disgust as the Matrix flashed, almost smugly.
He wouldn’t voice it yet in case he was wrong, but the Matrix’s sheer levels of seeming confidence left him more than a little dubious about Optimus’s ‘death’.
“Who’s going to tell Elita?” Jazz’s commentary led the entire group to collectively wince. Elita would not take this well. She never did.
“Maybe we can keep it on the down low for a while-” Hot Rod attempted to make a rather well thought out suggestion, but was promptly silenced by Bumblebee parting his chassis plating in time for the Matrix to slide right on in like it belonged there. His plating clicked shut, and over the course of about a klik, he gained about a foot in height and some augmented battle mods.
The scout in question smiled a little nervously.
“I don’t think that’s going to be possible.” Slag.
Magnus did what he could, but Elita went on a murderous mechhunt for Devastator in particular. The Autobots collectively seemed to get mostly on board with Bumblebee taking up a leadership position, with Magnus and Hot Rod as his supporters while High Command kept things running. The only one who still seemed truly upset was Megatron himself.
“HOW DID HE DIE AGAIN!?” He screamed during a battle shortly after Bumblebee refused a name change and instead operated under the title of Prime. Bumblebee wisely chose to engage for as short a time as possible before fleeing the battlefield to let Megatron take out his frustrations on his own subordinates.
Then, about a millennia later, Optimus the fragging Prime, popped back into existence.
When asked about his return by Ironhide and a few others, the Prime shrugged.
“Primus saw fit to return me, and so I woke a while ago from a hotspot a city or two over.” Jaws hit the floor and Ultra Magnus simply sat back in his seat as the Prime offered hugs to those around him.
“Apologies, my friends.” It didn’t fix anything, but it did tell Magnus that Optimus was at least somewhat self aware of his status as Primus’s favorite.
After that clearly divinely touched return, they quickly learned that even if their leader got dusted, so long as the Matrix continued to be a prick about picking a new bearer, their Prime was likely to turn back up at some point.
Death six came from plague. Megatron unleashed a terrible biological agent, ending the lives of millions. Optimus was no exception and keeled over towards its end around the time a cure was being made.
It was a time of such sorrow that his passing was a notable but not considerable footnote in the whole affair. His body was unfortunately burned in a mass grave with the rest for the sake of ensuring the plague was contained. The Matrix was fished out with tongs and kept in a box again while Hot Rod and Bumblebee played leader together. Elita didn’t even grieve properly, she just kicked rocks and cursed until she found something new to fight.
Optimus turned up a few centuries later looking very confused, and rather charred, but otherwise in one piece. Autobots gawked, but could not bring themselves to comment much on it when their Prime dragged his half melted frame to the medbay for Ratchet to promptly throw wrenches at.
He was covered in patches and had to get entire limbs replaced, but he was alive, again.
According to insider intelligence, Megatron didn’t bother being angry. Instead, he was evidently rather impressed by the whole affair, reportedly stating:
“That self righteous slagger deserves a true warrior’s death. And until I give it to him, he’ll be back.” No one argued with him.
Death seven came from scraplets. Optimus apologized before he even left for the mission to retrieve a much needed supply cache to push their northern warfront engagements.
The next time he was seen, he was running and screaming from a horde of scraplets that had taken a personal interest in him. It took almost a century to track down what remained of him, which was a grand total of nothing except a wheel and the Matrix lying proudly beside it. A group of Seekers attempted to steal it once it was located, and so from that point onward, Ultra Magnus enacted a system.
“Someone must carry the Matrix at all times.” The gathered group, including prior Matrix bearers and Autobot High Command, didn’t bother to object as Magnus slapped the relic down on the table. Everyone who’d carried the relic before made a face as if they’d come into contact with something foul. Those who hadn’t eyed it warily.
“I’d rather not.” Hot Rod objected almost instantly. Magnus raised a hand before Bumblebee or Prowl could interject.
“We will share the burden as prior wielders, and in the event someone else is chosen in the vorns that follow, they too shall join our ranks.” There was some grumbling, and Prowl looked especially disgruntled.
“How will this be decided? Do you three intend to play Seeker, Grounder, Two-Wheeler?” Jazz snorted somewhere in the back and Elita shot him a deadly look. Ultra Magnus rubbed his face before presenting the only solution he’d found to be reasonable.
A cup full of straws.
“We will draw. The shortest straw will carry the Matrix until Optimus returns.” An uneasy silence fell over the group before Ratchet raised a servo.
“Are we intending to treat this as a normal affair? Optimus is dead!” He was silenced almost instantly by Jazz’s harsh bark of a laugh.
“And he’s been dead seven times now! I think it’s safe to assume he’ll be back, Doc.” That shut Ratchet up frighteningly fast.
“As much as I hate to admit it, I have to agree. My Conjunx has gained some sort of favor with Primus, or if nothing else, some greater form of luck. He will return in his own time.” That settled it. No one else could get a word in once Elita spoke on all things Optimus related. Bumblebee sighed, and Hot Rod threw his helm back with a groan.
Ultra Magnus pushed the cup forward.
“Who wants to draw first?”
Deaths eight, nine, ten, and eleven were all battle related.
Eight featured Optimus getting his helm blasted clean off by Starscream of all bots, earning Megatron’s second in command a beating that made even Magnus cringe as the Decepticon Warlord raged over stolen honor. Bumblebee carried the Matrix that time as he drew the shortest straw.
Their Prime promptly reappeared with the helm of an empurata victim and went around like that for a while, earning quite the reputation as a sniper for a time. That was until he ended up stuck beneath a skyscraper as it exploded.
According to witnesses, he didn’t even bother running and simply said-
“Scrap.”
The Matrix was recovered a stellar cycle later and ended up as Magnus’s responsibility. The entire time he had it, he could have sworn the relic was trying to mock him by rattling around with even more viciousness than the first time he had it.
When Optimus reappeared that time, he was brand new and dusted himself off casually as he sauntered into base. Elita didn’t even give him an audial full and instead swatted him once before giving him a hug and going back to her report.
“I do apologize. That particular incident was entirely unintended.” Optimus bowed his helm regretfully once he’d finished working his way around the room. Magnus passed the Matrix back without complaint.
“It is always an honor to assist you, Sir.” Even if he and the Matrix had some… differences of opinion, he meant what he said.
Death ten was more unique in that Megatron actively tried to stop it from happening. The two were duking it out as they always did. In light of Cybertron’s increasingly dangerous and unlivable situation, the battle was over much needed energon.
The desperate situation was felt by the leaders of both sides of the war front. Optimus and Megatron warred along the edge of an old slag pit. It was as brutal as ever, as reported by Jazz. But at a crucial moment, Megatron lodged his weapon in Optimus’s shoulder, a non lethal hit that had been handled many times.
Then, without just cause, the Prime tripped over a rock and fell into the pit.
“HOW?!?” Megatron’s scream was legendary as Optimus was melted alive, the Matrix popping back up to the surface not long later glinting smugly.
Megatron failed to collect the Matrix and instead raged with such ferocity that the Autobots ended up gaining control over the smelting pit long enough to reclaim the relic. That time, Hot Rod ended up playing the role of Rodimus for about twenty vorns. It was one of the longer gaps between Optimus’s reappearances, but reappear he did, somehow.
He came back with an entirely new frame type, but was fully functional.
Death eleven came after Ultra Magnus took on his apprentice Arcee. He’d been training her to hopefully take up the name of Magnus eventually when, rather suddenly, Optimus ended up being entirely obliterated by a missile strike on the battlefield. Megatron wasn’t even there, and there was no confirmed killer.
And somehow, Arcee ended up bringing the Matrix home.
“What do I do with it?” She asked rather skeptically. Ultra Magnus didn’t bother trying to tell her to do anything before the Matrix settled into her spark chamber like it was meant to be there.
Elita threw a whole fit about it choosing his apprentice instead of her, Optimus’s lawful Conjunx. Arcee didn’t know what to do, and so Magnus quietly had Hot Rod and Bumblebee use their temporary leader status to promote her. Arcee Magnus ended up carrying the Matrix and their entire faction to war for a solid two millennia, cementing herself as one of the so called ‘Big Three’, that being her, Rodimus, and Bumblebee.
By the time Optimus dragged himself out of an actual sewer missing a few limbs and with quite the story to tell about Dwellers and hauling himself around with one arm, everyone collectively agreed that Optimus was effectively immortal.
Things only spiraled after Arcee joined their ranks. It was as if a switch had been flipped and Optimus was now allowed to die with increasing frequency and bizarreness.
Death twelve came when Optimus tripped over a live wire and electrocuted himself to death. Arcee carried the Matrix again since she was most accustomed to it.
Optimus returned three vorns later, shaking from lingering nerve damage and disgustingly apologetic over the whole thing.
Death thirteen arrived a century later.
Optimus was crossing the battlefield during a charge for some unknown reason and got run over. He survived that, and got run over again from an enemy combatant. He was struck a third time by an Autobot, and a fourth by a Decepticon seeker after being thrown into the air. After landing, he reportedly got to his pedes, declared that he was fine, and was promptly windshielded by Astrotrain dropping off reinforcements.
His body was put into a glass casket and promptly kept in the war room just because they were curious to see if he would get up again or not.
“Besides, I’m sure he’d like to be included.” Jazz very maturely commented while playing cards with his pedes propped up over Optimus’s face through the glass.
Rodimus carried the Matrix that time, his reign only ending when Optimus woke back up screaming as his helm collided with and broke through the glass of his casket during a war meeting.
Death fourteen came when Megatron got so fed up with Optimus’s effective immortality that he dropped an actual nuclear warhead on him in particular.
Optimus was, predictably, vaporized.
And as if to mock his flippant behavior the death prior, Jazz ended up carrying the Matrix when it quite literally flew at him and bound itself to him without a moment’s hesitation.
The Big Three mocked him mercilessly for it, especially when he got his Matrix sanctioned upgrades, earning him door wings that gave away his feelings for vorns until he learned to hide things again.
Optimus came back to Jazz literally crawling on his servos and knees begging to not have the Matrix again. The Prime very quietly patted Jazz’s shoulder and took back his Matrix with an apology.
“I’m sorry, Jazz. I did not expect you to have ended up with this burden in my absence.”
Never again did Jazz put his pedes on the coffin table.
Deaths blurred together, and eventually, a whiteboard appeared in whatever base of operations the Autobots had. Every time Optimus died, the time was reset and every single bot involved in high command or Matrix business groaned in defeat.
By that point, they weren’t even upset with Optimus doing heroic slag. They were more annoyed that he kept leaving them his entitled relic.
Magnus honestly lost track of how many times Optimus died. But he did remember notable ones.
One time, he died choking to death on a rust stick.
A rust. Stick.
Then to add further insult to injury, while Prowl was raging over it, the Matrix chose him.
The Autobot strategist promptly shut his trap and never again started talking scrap about Optimus until a new bearer was chosen through the titled Law of Straw. According to his report, the Matrix was rather opinionated. Magnus didn’t doubt it.
Another time, Optimus jumped out of an airship and promptly splattered onto the road below because his parachute didn’t work. Magnus carried the relic that time.
In another incident, Optimus ended up strangled to death after being caught up in a random tripwire prank in the base. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were forever haunted.
“How the frag were we supposed to know he’d hit it helm first?” Declared Sunstreaker when questioned. Honestly, Magnus couldn’t even be upset as he loaded Optimus’s body into the glass coffin table again while Jazz screamed in agony at drawing the short straw.
Even when the war started going to foreign worlds, Optimus wasn’t safe. One would think that Primus would run out of ways to revive him or something, but frankly it just got worse.
Poor Springer ended up joining their ranks after Optimus was unceremoniously crushed in a stampede of avians on a floral organic world. The mech was beyond horrified and carried the Matrix a grand total of three times before Hot Rod, Rodimus, or whatever his acting name was, quietly opted to play the role whenever Springer was chosen.
Elita finally got her turn to carry the Matrix when while getting out of berth one morning, he tripped on the rug he bought the cycle before and snapped his neck.
It was not the heroic moment of being chosen after glorious combat Elita envisioned.
On and on it went as the war continued, growing more tiring with every instance.
Blurr got the Matrix one time when Optimus’s ship got shot down and the speedster was sent in to retrieve whatever was left of him. He was a surprisingly good Prime while he held the relic.
“It’s a little tingly, but really not all that bad.” He declared quite proudly before shivering as the Matrix reminded him of his station.
There was a situation where the board hadn’t even reached twenty cycles before Optimus got into a tussle with Megatron, ended up captured, and before he could be interrogated or anything of the sort, got pushed down the stairs by Starscream and broke something vital.
Megatron was furious, even more so when the Matrix ended up with Starscream temporarily for reasons unknown to all sentient beings. The Winglord spent the cycle harping over his victory and making a grand show of being the one to have felled Optimus Prime and stolen the Matrix. Then, just as he began prancing about with a cape and crown all full of himself, the Matrix abandoned him in favor of Ravage, who in turn gave it to Soundwave.
The Decepticons held onto the Matrix for a while, but no one panicked.
And that was because Optimus ended up popping out of a vent on the Nemesis and going on a grand crusade until he managed to either bribe or threaten Soundwave enough to get it back. No one really knew which ended up being his choice of diplomacy.
Just before the Exodus, Ultra Magnus got to stand with all the prior Matrix bearers, watching in exhausted fascination as Optimus tried to activate a flamethrower and had it combust in his face. He dropped dead without so much as a squeak, and they were all able to observe as a random Vehicon brought in as a prisoner of war ended up being chosen.
ST3V3 was granted honorary Autobot status after that, especially since Optimus seemed to like him so much.
It was ridiculous. It was exhausting. And it became their routine. Honestly they all forgot about being grief stricken whenever Optimus died because they got rather wound up preparing to draw straws when he did. Megatron himself reached a point where he stopped fighting altogether until Optimus came back. He was petty like that.
Then Earth happened.
“GUYS!” Spike came stampeding onto the deck of the Ark, tears streaming down his face as he pointed outside.
“I-It’s Optimus! I don’t know what happened but-!” No more words needed to be said. Ultra Magnus sighed and every single bot in the Ark groaned, whined, or otherwise hit something in exasperation.
“Clean the whiteboard!” Arcee yelled back at the others, and Hot Rod just about threw his lunch before moving to comply. Springer dropped his helm into his servos. Jazz cursed up a storm and repeatedly hit the table. Prowl sagged in his seat, already defeated.
Ultra Magnus reached into the cupboard under the Ark console and pulled out the cup of straws.
“What’s going on? Optimus is… I think he’s dead.” Spike trembled like a leaf, tears rolling down his cheeks. Magnus was so calloused at this point that he barely registered the grief there. The others weren’t much better.
“And?” Bumblebee didn’t even look up from where he was mixing additives into his energon, and that seemed to be the tipping point for the human boy.
“AND?! HE’S DEAD! W-we were playing basketball outside and Ironhide hit him with the ball and-!” Magnus internally cursed. Of course it was Ironhide.
“IRONHIDE!” Prowl screeched from behind him, and only then did the guilty looking weapon’s specialist step inside to stand at Spike’s side.
“Sorry everyone. We were usin’ the lob ball and I hit em’ harder than I thought.” Collective groans rang out.
“You better be sorry! Elita’s going to kill us!” Jazz complained, throwing up his arms.
“I hope you get added to the drawing pool.” Prowl bitterly commented.
“I’ll call Megatron.” Arcee wasted no time calling up the warlord on their console as Spike stared in bafflement.
“What is it, Magnus?” Megatron’s voice rang out, tired and already resigned. Arcee rubbed her face before gesturing to Ironhide.
“Prime got killed again. Blunt force trauma during recreation.” Megatron groaned, and through the screen, Magnus heard the collective complaints of a dozen other Decepticons.
“Of course he did. Slagging glitch. I’m not fighting until he’s up and kicking again.” Just like that, the call ended and Spike stared in bafflement. Behind him, Ironhide vanished and returned dragging Optimus’s limp body, energon trickling from the wound to his helm.
Magnus looked at it once before calculating the return time. Minor kills like that meant a year or so of relative peace.
“Hold up! What’s even happening?! Shouldn’t you all be upset!?” Spike burst out, leaving most of the Autobots to pause. That’s when it really hit Ultra Magnus how strange this must look to him.
Ah, it must have slipped his mind.
“Prime dies all the time, kid. But he’ll be back in one or two of your earth years. Dont’cha worry.” Jazz cheerfully explained just in time for Magnus to draw his straw. All optics turned to him as he drew a long one.
He passed the cup around, and every former weilder took their turn. Magnus watched Spike’s eyes widen in sheer horror as Hot Rod drew the smallest one and the one and now chosen Prime collapsed to his knees.
“NOT AGAIN!” He wailed to the skies, and everyone else laughed.
“What the hell is wrong with you aliens?” Spike muttered.
Ultra Magnus shrugged in response.
“You’ll get used to it.”
And just as he always did, a year later, Optimus shot up on the medical berth and rubbed his helm complaining about aches.
Spike was baffled.
Optimus’s response?
“Apologies, little one. I do my best to remain in one piece, but I am prone to accidents.”
“Are you… going to die again anytime soon?” Spike questioned hesitantly.
“Most likely.” Optimus nodded, rather unbothered. Spike rubbed his face, wiping away tears, before moving to hug Optimus’s leg.
“Please stop dying, Prime.” Someone snorted in the back, but no one interrupted as Optimus gently patted their little human’s back.
Distantly, Ultra Magnus watched Hot Rod set the white board to stark one. Maybe they could beat three hundred and sixty five this time.