Darkness in the Light

by the-lazy-ant164

It has always been a well-known fact that Optimus is the perfect leader of the Autobots - both idealistically impossible and spotless at the same time. But in truth, none of the history books got it entirely right. This is an actual recollection of what might or might not have occurred. With every cards revealed on deck, the role of judgement is yours to proclaim.

2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2
#Flourish through Darkness

The War was over.

Every single inch of the ground lay deactivated frames of offlined Cybertronian soldiers. Decapitated helms scattered on the surface of Cybertron, all soaked in streams of life-giving Energon. A few dismantled parts were still sparkling white, live electric wires entangled in a slag heap of melted metal that reeked of burnt chemicals. The atmosphere was heavily polluted with toxic fumes, smoke and thick layers of dust, obscuring the viewing range back within less than 3 meters on an open field. Tall, huge pillars of flame reached high into the sky, piercing through Cybertron's natural Ozone layer like sharp stabs of a thermo blade, lighting the air itself on fire. Fallen city states lay in rumble and ruins where enormous skyscrappers used to stand proudly. Any and all evidence of a once-thriving civilization preceeding that exact moment was either disfiguredly destroyed or wiped out from existence.

It had been continuously processing, bulding up right into that moment. Ever since Yoketron picked up that accursed mechling in the middle of nowhere.

Their diplomacy relationship, built on Yoketron's wise choice of words and an ancient-long life of experience, had been very promising. Both parties benefitted from the mutual co-operation, the Quintessons got the muscle workers that they were lacking so much, and the Cybertronians got a taste of their advanced cutting-edge technology. Trades and contracts were proposed and agreed on with barely the need of any negotiation.

But since that fateful day, when he noticed an unarmoured protoform lying in a suspiciously empty field, with large, groggy blue optics and an innocent sheepish grin.

He fell for him. Hard.

Recklessly dropping all duty and responsibility of a a Prime's exclusive consultant, Yoketron got unreasonably distracted by the youngling. Almost as much as if he was under a hex or another worldly influence. Orga, the naive and inexperienced Prime, had to carry the immesurable weight of social diplomacy, and without a trusty consultant had unsurprisingly soon sparked the heart of the conflict. All the while, the mech that Cybertron needed the most had been discreetly concealed inside a runaway hideout in a remote section of the Sea of Rust, deeply mesmerized within the mechling's wrap of digits.

As the war broke out, the perturbed adopted-creator assigned himself with the role of providing protection to a now 30 mega-cycle old Orion Pax, including from himself, on a rainy day when Quintessa disorientation ray hits home. The Prime's very first combat training session was taught by Cybertron's deadliest hand-to-hand warrior, as if said mechling had been destined for greatness since birth.

But that statement's inaccuracy extended into two missing variables. One, he wasn't objectively destined into importance, but the entire coincident rather resembled manipulating his way through.

And second, what would become of him is not even a close shot to "greatness". The polar opposite, in fact.

So, here he returned, right in the midst of ruins, more than ready to start rebuilding everything again.

The Thirtheenth First Prime was more than eager to thrive back from within destruction.