What if when Megatron and Orion Pax went to confront the Senate together, their motives were perfectly in sync?
Rally
Transformers of every size and description filled the courtyard of the Council Hall, hoping to catch a glimpse of the famed anarchists. Some said they were heroes, some outlaws, and some terrorists. There were even a few who whispered in the dark of the night that they were some kind of messengers from the Core. A small band of mechs stopped outside the massive double doors. Barricade shifted restlessly next to Lugnut. "I don't like it!" he growled, "Something's going to go wrong!" Beside him, Soundwave stood impassively. "If we did not encounter resistance of some kind," he replied smoothly, "I might suspect we were doing the wrong thing."
The hushed chatter was not heard by the two Cybertronians standing at the head of the phalanx. The larger of the two placed his hand on the shoulder of the smaller. "Are you ready?" he asked quietly. A wry smirk. "Would it matter if I said I was not?" The hand tightened reassuringly for a moment, then released as the doors creaked open. "Just let me do the talking until the Council arrives," Megatron murmured as he passed Orion Pax, "after that it's all up to you." He straightened his shoulders and strode into the courtroom confidently, helm held high. Orion followed at a more sedate pace, helm tipped upward contemplatively.
The Senate had yet to arrive, and the galleries were filled with bots from diverse castes, each jostling the other for a chance to see the legendary gladiator. "Cybertron, awake!" Megatron boomed, instantly silencing all listeners, "Do you not see the burden weighing your people down?" He turned his steely blue optics to the higher balconies where the upper castes sat. "Do you not hear, Cybertonians? The energon of your brothers cries out for justice from the sands of the arenas and the tunnels of the mines and the kiosks of the archives!"
He raised a fist in the air, and many of the lower castes echoed the motion. "Are we not of one metal? Does energon flow in my veins, but not in the veins of the politician? Listen, Cybertron! Hear! There is a storm approaching, swift and terrible. Who among you remembers the books of prophecy?" Fists went down and helms turned away. Megatron stepped forward and glared up at the galleries. "Who among you still studies the words of Primus?" He shook his helm, disgusted. "None of you. Not a single mech nor femme. And why? Because it is forbidden to all but the highest caste!"
This was news to several in the orator's audience, and a concerned murmur swept through the crowd. Orion caught sight of several imposing old Cybertronians making their way to the dais and knew the time was nearly upon them. He looked over at his friend and ally, but it was hard to tell whether or not Megatron saw the Senators, so focused was he on his speech. "Do you know why Sentinel and his mechs keep you all from the Archives? It is because there is yet one book of prophecy that he never got his servos on!" he announced, "But I have seen it! And within its pages these words: 'The Prime shall come to Iacon, and who shall stand before him?' Words we all know by spark, for we thought they foretold the day Zeta became Sentinel. But we were wrong. That Prime is not Sentinel!" Gasps echoed through the room at the treasonous words.
"Who is this who stands before us, polluting the air with his ravings?" the sneering voice of Senator Ratbat interrupted. He looked condescendingly down at Megatron. "A slave and a librarian?" He chuckled dryly. "How inspiring. I suppose you are the heroes of the underclass?" The gladiator bared his denta in a feral smile. "No, I'm just the messenger." He stepped back to stand at Orion's side. "They're not going to listen," the younger mech concluded softly, with a hint of regret in his voice. His brother nodded. "I know. Just speak the words you were given, my friend."
The former archivist let out a deep vent and stepped forward. From the dais, Sentinel Zeta found himself wondering whether it was normal for a data clerk to have the frame of a warrior. Something didn't sit right about this young protestor, but he couldn't place it until he spoke. This was not the voice of Orion Pax, who had stood up before the whole of Cybertron to be counted as the friend of Megatron. This was someone older, more serious, and possibly quite dangerous.
A rolling timbre shook the very throne on which Sentinel sat. "Sentinel Zeta, I have been to the Core." The audience gasped. The Core? Someone had actually braved the journey through the base of the Well of Allsparks? The revolutionary raised one mighty hand and pointed an accusing servo at the leader of the Senate. "This is what Primus says: let my people go!" Trembling, Sentinel shrank back in his seat. It was not that he believed the stories of a being living at the center of their planet, but there was such certainty in the words that he could not help but wonder what would happen if he refused.
But his spark was hardened, and he would not dissolve the caste system.
And so began the War.
Megatron was a pretty good orator, so I wondered what it'd be like to throw him into an Aaron-like supporting role.