Disclaimer: Don't own Transformers…

Warnings: Unbated. Discrimination against a minority, mentions of detailed deaths, disturbing images and dark themes. Angsty.

AN: Thank you Fliara48, Ladyofthedrgns, and Osteria for reviewing, it is very much appreciated and it just makes my day when I look in my email box and find something that doesn't cause my hair to gray before its time. Thank you all so much! Please kick back, feel free to grab your hankies if you happen to be sensitive to sad topics, and enjoy. (Edited…)

Mahikashi

-Ch 1: Sins of thy Father-

The vorns have passed and the memories of those long forgotten now stir within the consciousness of a people who once more look to their leaders for hope, a hope that cannot be so easily given in fear that the many shall see deception in words that may never be. It is a tense time, as it has always been, the weight of the many's voices crying out for guidance from an unknown enemy. But now there are no enemies in this conflict but the ones within, and the voices of the masters remain silent.

The war is over, ended by the thrusting of a blade and the stroke of a signature signed in energon upon cool metal, a dark chapter in the history of a people seeped so intimately in war passed by like a dream long since spoiled by the dawning of awareness, the opening of weary optics to a world that had once been their own. Gone.

The whispers are more deafening than the mightiest battle cry, a flicker of doubt in the optics of one more menacing than the cold stares of all. The enemy is gone, replaced by whispered doubts sparked from the stillness peace brings, passed from glossa to glossa with a growing unease. A beast set free by war and caged by peace, growing ever restless, prowling the cages edges with sharp, narrowed optics.

The Allspark had been destroyed during the great struggles of the war, forever lost to the cybertronians- perhaps as Primus's last punishment upon his children. But the people may never know for the priests are no more and the One has grown silent to even their Prime. It is uncertain if the blessed race will ever again win the favor of Primus, but the many will continue to fall to their knees, bare their necks in surrender, and beg for deliverance as they always have. But still, their God does not answer.

They are a dieing race, a race abandoned by their God, a race that has destroyed all that had been gifted to them in the pursuit of power and the feel of a golden goblet in their grasp. The people cry out in distress, seeking small hands and faces that will never be, the warmth of a young one against their spark casings: new life to fill the void of old tragedies.

The people have become desperate, their patience wearing thin in the growing turmoil of festering hope, and the masters know they must act. Once more their world is thrown into darkness, leaving the optics of many shifty and the sparks of many more sweeping. They seek a light that may never come, a light they had never acknowledged until it was snuffed out by their own hand.

They had damned themselves.

Booming voices and harsh tones overwhelmed the wide spaces of the council floor, seeming to set ablaze the atmosphere as tempers mount and frantic debate turned to heated confrontation. There is much said in those tense times yet very little heard, and even those with the loudest voices are drowned out in the chaos. The call for silence goes unheard by the gathered bots vying for their share of influence, the shrill ring from a shock call little more than white noise to their audio receptors and the pulsing of energon rushing through their lines.

The weary optics of those who've held their silence throughout flicker subdued glances to their Prime, a strange glint of something understood only in processor passing through their seemingly listless gazes. There is something to be said about how much can be communicated amongst old companions with the mere nod of a helm or the flicker of tight lips upon familiar faceplates. It is an understanding few shall ever know.

The Prime sighs silently to avoid being heard by the tempered councilmen, his optics dimming in a growing frustration. Taking one last weeping glance across the room he comes to an gradual stand, frame raised magnificently above his subjects, seeming to cast those before him in shadow though not a single shade of such is evident upon their frames. The room falls silent.

One last observation of the mechs before him and the Prime speaks. "My fellow councilmen, I am not ignorant of the unrest among my people and I understand your concern. However, I am inclined to calmly offer my opinion in the way you have chosen to handle these state of affairs-"

"He means you're wasting his time with your pointless squabbling." The Prime's head medic chose to step in at that moment, icy blue optics narrow and arms firmly crossed, his own ire having been on the exponential increase throughout the entirety of the meeting, if it could be rightfully called that.

After an astrosecond or so of staring helplessly towards the ever-blunt Ratchet, Optimus finally managed to speak. "Well, yes- in so many words." The Prime cleared his intakes, turning his attention back to the either aghast or mortified councilmen. "I have heard your concerns." He continued on steadfastly, back straight and chassis held steady. "But in these times so early after the war and the destruction of the Allspark-" A slight hitch in his vocals, but it was hardly noticed. "-there is nothing to be done about our inability to produce sparklings at this present date. We simply do not have the means by which to create new sparks without the assistance of the Allspark."

A heavy silence settled over the room as though the weight of their entire race resting upon their shoulders, which was actually truer than any of them would have liked to admit since clearly they did not have the answers their restless people desired. It was a time of desperation and uncertainty.

In that moment of condemned resignation a word was uttered, so low had the room not been silent it would have passed unheard, but be it coincidence or fate the Prime heard it just as he had turned to look directly to the soft-spoken mech.

For a moment the Prime locked optics with the elder mech who'd remained silent throughout the entirety of the congregation thus far, searching those fatigued faceplates for some deeper meaning. Optimus saw an unfathomable pain in those optics, a shame and a deeply ingrained wisdom only vorns of experience can bring, before his helm lowered. That was when Optimus knew there was more to be addressed in this matter than any of them could have ever imagined.

The old ones knew things.

Squaring his shoulders he addressed the now silent mech. "Councilmen Pointblank. May I ask you to please repeat that?"

The mech glanced up as though startled by the Prime's words, but in such a way that it seemed he'd been expecting to be addressed. His face was still, lips drawn in a pained line, optics bright but unseeing before they dimmed, as though lost within the ripples of time.

Coming back to himself, Pointblank finally repeated. "Mahikashi." And he cringed at the word as though the very utterance of it burned his glossa. His shame was evident, his pain even more so.

"A myth produced by the processors of old fools before the war." A younger councilman designated Roadrage snarled harshly, casting a condescending glower towards the much older mech. "What business has such folly he-"

"Hold your glossa youngling, or I shall remove it." Ratchet snapped, his tone holding no lie.

Optimus nodded his thanks to the medic and motioned for Pointblank to continue.

With a tired shake of his head the elder proceeded, but now much more solemn. "I do not fault young Roadrage for being unaware of the long history regarding the Mahikashi, nor do I expect any of you to know much more on the matter than the few tales that have been passed down the ranks from glossa to glossa." Another shake of his head before his optics, clouded in a haze of bitter memories, sought out every mech within the room. "Discard all you thought you knew about the Mahikashi, for those tales are lies fabricated by the former priests of the Allspark temple."

There was uproar from the younger mechs, rage burning in their optics at the brazen way any bot, even so old, could speak such treachery of the former priests. It was unheard of amongst the Autobot ranks and had not been so common among the Decepticons either, but the Prime once more raised his hand and all grew silent.

"Please continue." Optimus encouraged, now genuinely interested in what a mech of such obvious knowledge had to say. There were not many left who remembered the days of old and Optimus himself had been a relatively young bot at the beginning of the war.

After taking a moment to recollect his thoughts the elder bot continued. "Before I can explain just who the Mahikashi are I must first warn you that what you are about to hear will not be easy-" His old, wise optics shuttered once, a shamed grimace flickering over his faceplates. "Nor pleasant. Nonetheless, you must all bear witness to this."

Many in the room remained motionless, save the brief shuttering of a councilmen's optics and the drumming of another's fingers against the table's edge. They did not believe, could not comprehend the weight of the old one's words for they had not seen the tragedies that he had witnessed in his long years. The old one shook his helm. But they would soon enough.

"As I am sure you are all aware, the war begun after vorns of confrontation between the lower and higher casts, chiefly due to the imbalance of power and the depleting of our planet's resources." His face contorted into a pained frown. "However, that time before the Great War is greatly shrouded in secrecy, its records said to have been lost in the initial clashes of the two fractions." His optics flashed. "That is a lie. I know this." A long pause, the far off look in the elder's optics revealing to all the inner turmoil. "I will never forget. I was the one ordered to destroy the documents containing records of our planet's disgrace. The records of the existence of the Mahikashi."

Pointblank shuttered suddenly, so violently his armor rattled with the effort to suppress it, the rims of his optics beginning to mist over, unseeing. "I- I was there. I saw it all. I saw everything; everything and I did nothing to stop it. Like a coward I hid and told myself that I could do nothing." His grip on the chair arm tightened, leaving dents in the thick metal, tense. "Even my own friend. I turned him in because I was afraid that they'd find me and kill me just like the rest of them. I didn't want to die, He- he said he-"

The mech was unexpectedly pulled from his memory-induced hysteria by the placing of a firm hand upon his arm, gripping the armor in a reassuring grasp. Still he shook.

"My friend." The Prime's voice said soothing, not wanting to further discomfort the already distraught mech. "Do you perhaps have memory files that can be shared, if you are not yet ready to tell us of your experience."

The mech looked up at the taller mech, his face twisted into an unfathomable expression before he nodded tightly and shakily reached to his wrist, pulling out a thin data chip that would download selective memory files into a data package.

"This-" He began quietly, helm lowering as he gently held the chip in his hands, staring down at it with an eternally wounded expression. "Is a copy of the original records before I destroyed them, as well as my own memories of that time."

He turned his near dead stare up towards his Prime and sunk in on himself, hiding himself from that sympathetic gaze. But that soft, knowing gaze never yielded and the comfort they gave the old mech only served to make him feel ever dirtier, unworthy. He wished only to suffer. Hatred he could handle, but compassion killed him inside. He did not deserve kindness, he had decided long ago as he'd watched energon pooling beneath him, reflecting his lost expression within its warm depths, because he had abandoned those who needed him first.

After a while, he spoke again. "I could not bring myself to forget. Nor ever let the memories of those who've passed be forgotten. Please do not take compassion on me young Prime. I only ever find peace when I remember that my end is near and Primus himself shall decide my punishment." And sometimes when he remembered the gentle optics that had gazed upon him in those last moments before they went dim forever, the old mech wished he'd burn in the pits for all eternity.

The large hand did not move, but instead tightened in reassurance. "We all make decisions we regret my friend, and many more we cannot take back, but-" His optics softened further, trying to lend strength to the distraught mech. "Only by honoring the memories of those who have passed on can we amend for those lost."

Pointblank's optics flickered back to brightness for the briefest of moments, casting those about the room a vacant glance before finally turning to face his Prime. "Some things cannot be forgiven." And with that he handed the chip to the Prime, hastily got to his feet and pulled his arm from the taller bot's grip, almost tripping over himself in his rush to get to the door.

The Prime let him go, because he knew this was a battle the old mech had to fight alone, as some battles were.

Before the mech fully exited the room though, he stopped. Slowly, he turned that haunted stare towards the Prime and for the first time did not flinch in meeting his optic. "May you be forgiven for your ancestor's past transgression against Primus' people." And then he was gone, nothing more than a flicker of memory in their long, long lives.

So it passed that the young masters of a new world forged from a signature signed in energon gathered together once more in gleaming towers to bridge the gap forming between the masters and the many. So it passed that the young masters bore witness to the sins of their reverent ancestors, acts of suffering not even their Primus could condone. And as they bore witness to the shame of their race, they too became stained by it, this dark chapter in the lives of a people whose history is seeped in war.

They bore witness to The Hunts, The Cleansing, and the suffering placed upon the few in the name of Primus, of Cybertron, of all cybertronians, and they too saw the roar of the crowd as the few where thrown to the smelting pits and their creations baptized in great barrels of acid. They bore witness to the delight of the many as the few's armor were pealed back from their protoforms in a swirl of withering surrender, and they bore witness to how the many would cheer as the mutilated frames of the few's creations were melted to mercury tears that streamed through the priest's ringed fingers.

The masters of this new world remained silent, optics shifting as one's gaze does in the presence of an unsettling truth, and hands clenched as they watched the world they had once sought to restore was shrouded in a veil of shadow, where brother turned against brother and all was in chaos. And among the new masters of a world forged from a signature signed in energon, a stumbling gasp from trembling lips was heard as they bore witness to the violation of a young one with gold optics for the sake of Primus, of Cybertron, of all cybertronians, and yet another as the mercury tears of a newborn's mutilated frame was smeared over the spark casing of its creator, bound by chains to the floor before the alter of Primus.

The screams of those so brutally ripped to pieces before the alter of Primus by the once life-giving hands of their own kin with red crosses upon their frames, their fellow cybertronians made monsters in the face of an uncontrollable fear, upon the live feed above them like the mirrored gaze of Primus himself was drowned out by the enraged roar of the new masters, the image of their hellish origins laid bare before their optics more than many could bare. And the new master with the red crosses upon his shoulders and the red life-giving hands by his side was silent, for his horror was that of the silent kind, a rage without name, unspeakable.

One young master fled the great tower of steel and privilege that had once been bathed in the long forgotten energon of those who'd once been their own, away from the sight of an unfathomable evil. Another put a hand to his mouth, his glossa burning from screams unheard and cries withheld. And yet another turned away, and muttered a silent prayer.

And the Prime, who'd given all he was to built this new world of peace and sanctuary for his people with a signature signed in energon with his own hands upon the grayed frames of his enemies, could not look away as he watched the many cheer and rejoice, a sea of red and blue, of red and purple, of Autobot and Decepticon made one in a common goal, and the cries of a single child with tears on his face trapped in their mist, bound and laid open for all to see.

The voices of the many were rising, frenzying into a hum of celebration and devotion to their God as they beat the young child day after day after day till the energon upon the ground had long since run cold and the young one had stilled upon the sullied land, his hands still bound and his exposed spark chamber long since cast into shadow. But still the fists did not cease, still the kicks did not stop, still the chanting continued.

"Kill them, kill them, kill them all. Kill the Disease, kill the Viruses, kill the Tainted ones, kill the Infected, kill the Unicron spawns. Kill them, kill them, kill the Mahikashi. For Primus, for Cybertron, for all cybertronians, let us cleanse the world of evil."

And a single tear slid silently down the face of the Prime who had given all he was to built this new world of peace and sanctuary for his people with a signature signed in energon with his own hands upon the grayed frames of his enemies.

AN: Oh, Optimus, bless your noble spark, I am so sorry you have to suffer through such horrible truths, but I swear it will get better. To those reading, I know this story has been exceptionally heavy on the angst so far, but it will have lighter parts of fluff and light, fuzzy things that make fangirls giggle a little inside. That is a promise! Also, the only reason this was updated so quickly was because I already had this chapter written out, it was just in need of some editing and material reviewing to be sure I wanted to start my story this way.

Please review…