TIME MEASUREMENTS:
Astrosecond: .5 seconds
Nano-klik: 1 second
Klik: 1 minute
Breem: 8 minutes
Cycle: 1 hour 15minutes
Solar-Cycle: One day (20 hours)
Lunar-Cycle: One night (20 hours)
Deca-cycle: 4 weeks (one month)
Mega-cycle: 96 hours (four days)
Meta-cycle: 12 months (one year)
Stellar Cycle: 6 months
Vorn: 83 years
Mega-vorn: 83,000 years (1000 vorns)
60 mega-vorns: 4,980,000 years
Logically, Sam knew he had saved the world a couple of times.
Of course, the only reason he survived long enough and fought hard enough to do the aforementioned saving-of-the-world, was because of his friends and family. 'Friends' being quite a few people who were also instrumental in protecting Earth and held the title of 'ally' (or at least, useful in the case of Simmons ). And 'family' being composed of two slightly-older-than-middle-aged parents, his laid-back mostly harmless childhood friend, a former car-thief turned specialized mechanic, conspiracy-theorist with dreams of making it big, two technically inclined geniuses who ran most of the R&D department of NEST, a good handful or three of military personnel and their immediate families and five, count'em, five alien lifeforms.
Five that were still living, that is.
Back to the saving-the-world bit.
When the consequences of your actions have an ending result of saving your planet , yes , obviously, that means that the planet of Earth was saved because of Samuel J. Witwicky's actions on two separate occasions. However, going to back to normal life (with the addition of said alien lifeforms) was simultaneously astonishingly easy and unbearably difficult.
The nightmares, sudden need to take up track (which he didn't suck at), flinching at loud noises (he couldn't stop ), staring suspiciously at police cars (Barricade was injured, not killed) , military vehicles (due to the nature of his expanded worldview), large trucks and even expensive cars with pricey paint jobs (high tech aliens appreciate their paint jobs) was bound to be noticed . By your parents (who only know the barest points of your 'adventure'), other parents, teachers, fellow students…and your best friend who you weren't legally allowed to tell anything.
Sam's newfound reactions to perfectly ordinary things were poked and prodded at by various people, mostly those looking to laugh at him, or the odd one or two who recognized the similar patterns in friends and family who worked in…dangerous fields.
The healing scrapes and bruises had been stared at while Sam had laughed them off as a fight, but considering most of his injuries were made by alien metals with alien fluids on them, most scarred in… interesting ways. The vaguely blue-ish and black hues that remained told a different story. Those silvery lines on his hands were the ones that never did fully fade and drew the most notice. And, well, if his grades in math and physics gradually climbed up to steady B's and A's…that was just him finally taking his education seriously.
The final cherry on top, to the new rumors surrounding him, was that Mikaela Banes was always in his company. They were rarely seen apart and when someone makes the connection with the lingering touches and looks between them that Sam Witwicky and Mikaela Banes were now dating, things get a little harder. A popular, attractive girl and an awkward nerdy boy. The entire school gets involved in attempting to figure out what dramatic event occurred for this relationship to happen.
Not that Sam and Mikaela care.
Considering that they had saved each other's lives, the lives of Lennox and Epps, Bumblebee and Optimus Prime (not to mention, you know, the entire planet ) with their combined efforts, they had a lot to relate to one another with. Which lead to a deeper relationship, one that they hopefully won't regret in fifty years.
Bumblebee is still with them, still watching out for them and the weekend after they get home, that's when they get a call from William Lennox. The Captain tells them that the Autobots have been relocated to Diego Garcia and that it was a stipulation of the 'Bots that Sam and Mikaela be given unrestricted access to both the Autobots and the base.
The sheer relief both of them felt when Bumblebee dropped them off and transformed to lead them into a large hangar, where the surviving Autobots stood, was astounding. When Optimus kneeled down and once again thanked them for their action in the Battle for Mission City, Sam almost cried. Jazz was dead, the AllSpark was gone and Optimus Prime knelt down and thanked him?
Sam who had absolutely heard Optimus call Megatron his brother , and Sam had shoved the AllSpark into his chest. Not that he regretted his actions, it was his life, Bee's life and everyone else's life or Megatron's. Sam had made the choice he could live with. But he regretted the AllSpark being destroyed, especially once Bee had told him that the Cube held their history and was how their children came into being.
That the Autobots welcomed him and claimed him as a friend - after everything he did - was absolutely mind boggling, but Sam, Sam decided that if they wanted him (when no one else did, save for Miles and his parents) then he was going to accept that.
That was when Ratchet came over and managed to convince both up them to submit to a check-up in the medical chief's newly set up room. Which didn't take much effort as Sam didn't quite know how to get an opinion of the discoloration of his scars and Mikaela had energon burns on her hands from fixing Bee's legs.
When they had been evacuated from Mission City, they were seen by military doctors who had just been briefed on the existence of aliens, thus had no idea how to treat the burns and cuts exposed to alien metals and fluids.
Ratchet gave both of them an injection to help with 'energon poisoning' and said that they probably had nothing to worry about, but if they experienced any odd sensations to come see him immediately. Once he had made sure everything was treated, he turned to ask Mikaela about what caused her burns since he knew where Sam had received his.
When she easily provided the information of her patch-job fix on Bumblebee's legs, Ratchet turned to study her intently.
The job offer came barely five seconds later.
Of course, being a high school student, she was only free after school hours and on weekends. But considering that Sam usually tagged along and they both ended up spending most of the day hanging out with the Autobots and the military personnel when they weren't on missions.
And when more Autobots started arriving, both Sam and Mikaela had front row seats to introducing them to Earth culture. The introduction of Mudflap and Skids, the twin menaces with foul mouths and quick tempers, Sideswipe, a volatile mech desperately searching for his lost brother, Jolt, a mischievous young mech with a love for electricity, and the Arcee Triplets, a single spark housed in three frames as a result of an experiment of a mech named Shockwave. Mirage was an aristocratic mech who was gone most of the time due to the secretive nature of missions. Sam was less familiar with him, but he was an Autobot, an ally at the very least. Sam didn't care what he went through at school being with Mikaela, nor Miles' frustration with him on his secrecy or even the looks the soldiers gave him as he spoke casually with the 'Bots.
No matter what political persons said about the presence of two high school students with the highly classified extraterrestrial lifeforms that they were in the middle of negotiating with.
There wasn't really any saving the world parts for two years, for which Sam was happy, but Decepticons still came, along with friendlies, so there were missions which some didn't come back from. Having grown closer to the Autobots in the two years he spent nearly every spare moment with them, he mourned those losses just as they did, both humans and bots.
The saving-the-world bit though. That was a recurring thing.
As it happened again with the whole AllSpark, pyramids, Optimus dying , Matrix of Leadership, having your face blasted across the world with a capture-alive order, dying , meeting the Primes, Optimus living again …
But they took losses. All three of Arcee's frames were too damaged to be repaired and- and Jetfire. Sam mourned for Jetfire after the adrenaline fades and they're on their way back home. His arms are wrapped around Mikaela and Optimis is within his sight ( alive ) and everyone knows the only reason Optimus was able to defeat the Fallen, one of the first Primes, freshly resurrected and low on energon was because of Jetfire's sacrifice.
None of them would forget that.
Sam received a medal for his actions and an official 'thank you' from the Egyptians, who were slightly more grateful the Harvester didn't consume their sun than pissed off one of their several thousand-year-old national monuments was…dismantled (torn apart by an alien). Not that they weren't angry, but they were alive and didn't have to fight off an ancient Transformer intent on consuming the sun with their own forces.
That made up a little for the political shitstorm that happened due to his face being plastered all over the world by an intimidating metal alien that look suspiciously like a popular line of toys. Not to mention the college thing.
Not mentioning the college thing.
Moving on.
Yeah, Sam considered himself to be somewhat knowledgeable in doing stupid, reckless, dangerous stuff that nearly got him killed, actually got him killed, or almost killed everyone around him, while managing to do even more of the aforementioned stuff that ended up not resulting in an alien invasion or their sun being used as energy.
But he was okay, Bee was alive, Optimus was alive (others weren't-), Lennox, Epps, his parents, Mikaela, they were alive and okay.
( the nightmares were worse-)
So he went back to college and graduated and moved out with Mikaela and kept in contact with all the Cybertronians and visited when even Bee was called back. He kept up with the new arrivals (Prowl, a former Enforcer who was often sent to the scattered Autobot bases to gather intelligence and reports, Wheeljack, a scientist with a habit of blowing things up, and the Wreckers,Topspin, Roadbuster and Leadfoot who kept their spaceships operational). and if it was Lennox emailing him from his wife's computer, if it was Bumblebee sending him untraceable messages to keep him in the loop, well, that was just being a good friend, wasn't it?
He had troubles with finding a job, and he missed his friends, but he was okay.
This, however? This, was not okay . This was Sam being so far into unknown territory, he could barely breathe. Not that he needed to breathe anymore, but if he could, he would be hyperventilating. Or throwing up or passing out, just generally, out of his mind with fear and ohmygodwhyisthishappeningtome .
The reason for this, what had lead the past events to the current events could be place squarely on that fraggin' glitched son of a screwdriver Sentinel Prime's shoulder pads. Sam knew, Primus knew, it was all Sentinel's fault.
Megatron was at fault as well. But that was Megatron, everything was always his fault.
All those other Decepticons probably had something to do with it too…
Basically , it wasn't Sam's fault, just Sam who had to fix it.
At least, he hoped he could fix it.
Still. Saving the world.
Or rather, it would be more accurate to say…saving both worlds .
Being actually told he was going to do it, was drastically different from doing the best he could while running for his life, praying people he cared about would live to see another day.
It was so drastically different, holy shit.
It started like any other day.
Actually, no, that's a lie, it started off pretty great, but things went to pieces a short time later in a FUBAR situation that would go down in history books if it wasn't classified to hell and back. Sentinel Prime was the mentor of Optimus 'freedom is the right of every sentient being' Prime . The one who taught him a lot of the important things that he holds sacred. So Sentinel being a fragging, murdering betrayer was unexpected and incomprehensible. To the Autobots, it was devastating.
To Sam?
It just made him angry. Considering the loss of life in previous years, the soldiers, Jazz, Skids and Mudflap, Arcee, Jolt, Wheeljack , Ironhide (Lennox was going to kill someone, Ironhide was dead), and Optimus himself (twice, however briefly) there wasn't much in good things in the Autobots' day-to-day life. Having an old mentor figure, long thought dead, come back? A respected leader, a Prime of the must have been the greatest happiness all of the Bot's had in a long time.
And then that miss-clocked son of a glitch ruined it when he killed Ironhide by brutally shooting him in the spark while revealing his alliance with Megatron. The Space Bridges were pretty important for the Decepticons to invade Chicago with, so Sam shoved away his grief, the tears, the rage and put that as priority one, to take the control matrix down, or render it inoperable.
He desperately hoped that when this was all over he could try and use the Matrix of Leadership to revive Ironhide and he prayed to any higher being ( seven gathered around him, judging with weighted stares) that was listening that he would be able to save his family once more.
Because they were alive (for now) and they came back, thank Primus.
He set off, ignoring his injuries and wiping the blood from his face, to the building with the blue light shimmering in between the pillars and the fraggin' space portal hanging over it. The Decepticons tumbling through it were focusing on the other Autobots, so he had a relatively clear path to traverse. Of course, the act of getting up to a place where he could actually do something, required climbing and being careful to avoid attention from the 'Cons who were patrolling, along with a handful of humans.
(He was going to use every single favor he had in the government to get all of those pieces of shit publicly tried for treason. There was no way they were going to hide this, so Optimus and N.E.S.T. was going public.)
Fighting ensued when his stealth failed. His winning on the fights was mostly due to the alien tech that he had that Wheeljack had given him before the 'Cons-
Forcibly turning his thoughts away from that ( mourn later, no sacrifice, no victory) , he locked his gaze to the one pillar that was the control matrix. It was guarded and he had no idea what it was he was going to do ( fragile squishy) , but he couldn't just do nothing . So here he was, running towards the danger, towards his probably-death. But Optimus and Bumblebee were fighting and ( Ironhide was dead) people were counting on him. Mikaela was waiting.
He should have known, right then and there, that this wasn't going to turn out well. There was no possible way this was going to turn out well.
The thing was, Sam realized looking back on this moment, was that he had an odd relationship with Matrixes of any kind. Also, Primes, there were connections between Primes that he didn't understand ( the Dynasty of Primes has endured since the beginning and will not be broken-) .
Primes, Matrixes and the human Samuel J. Witwicky.
Also, saving-the-world. So naturally, there were explosions and buildings crumbling and people screaming ( dying-) , Autobots screaming ( dying-) , Decepticons screaming ( dying- ) all in the shadows of the space portal and blue light. It was terrifying and he was so scared because Lennox and Epps, Ironhide- no, he had a job to do and he was going to do it and it didn't matter that Sentinel was blocking his way, the Megatron was shouting his victory, Optimus yelling in rage (grief, betrayal) , he could do this.
Right, left, right, jump, duck, run, Sam, run.
There it was, and Megatron was fighting Sentinel was fighting Optimus was fighting Megatron and the control Matrix was there , he reached out-
Later, Sam couldn't tell anyone what happened exactly , beyond Sentinel's furious yelling, the long drawn out denial from Optimus, Megatron's screams and the steady stream of curses running through his own head, yet he remembered with clarity the words he heard as the world around him faded to silence and everything lit up in a blinding light.
Sam Witwicky. You will save the world.
When he opened his eyes next, the first word on his lips was Optimus. No one answered and it took several minutes for him to process his memories and current status. The last words he heard were in the front of his mind, burning brightly with power that took a bit more time to understand as his brain moved so slowly and all he could feel was his heart breaking-
Later, much later, he needed to understand his situation. He had no idea what state he was in. Which was worrying as he couldn't see anything. Or feel anything. Deliberately, carefully, he attempted to twitch any part of his body.
Nothing moved. No pain either.
Okay, panic was setting in and his heartbeat was rising and his breathing was speedin-
No…it wasn't?
He was not breathing.
Nor was his heart beating.
Oh slag.
He was dead. He had died taking out the control matrix and he distinctly remembered Sentinel, Megatron and Optimus being rather close, so they probably took each other out ( did Optimus survive?) including the traitor and hopefully Megatron with him, but holy Primus he was dead. Again .
Unfortunately (or fortunately, however one chooses to look at it), Sam, while being a mostly normal-ish human being, was something of an honorary Prime. Considering that he held the AllSpark as it shattered into Megatron's chest, had it in his head ( in the beginning of the Dynasty of Primes- wandered Cybertron with their packs- war ended and began again not long after- exploration of the nearest stars-) , earned the Matrix of Leadership, met the ( seven ) Primes of Old, was revived by the ( seven) Primes of Old and then proceeded to do the same with Optimus, the human was definitely Prime material. Granted, he was young, human and inexperienced but he did the right thing when called upon. That Sam went willingly to his death, several times, in defense of the Autobots, was noted ( exploited-) .
When Sam and those nearest to him ( Sentinel Prime, Megatron, Opti- ) were caught up in the control matrix with the space bridge the organic tissue of Sam's body disintegrated and betraying-once-Prime's spark was forcibly removed as was what was left of Megatron's. Optimus...did not survive. A decision was made, by the Primes in the Afterlife and by Primus, their creator who gave life to all through the AllSpark.
"Samuel James Witwicky. Valiantly you have fought. For the sake of your world, for the sake of your loved ones. Including Our own. Worthy, you are of the Matrix of Leadership. Worthy of the trust that has been placed in you. Your life for theirs, was a choice you made without hesitation. Their Sparks, into your hands We give. A new future has begun, one you will shape.
Welcome to the ranks of Prime, Janus, protector of Cybertron."
The awe-inspiring voice that tasted of ancient power, invaded his suddenly functioning senses and his entire being, yet as quickly as it came just as it faded away. Awareness slammed into his being painfully and he lurched up, uncoordinated and hurting, aching as he coughed and dry-heaved. His eyes darted rapidly around in the darkness as he tried to recognize any familiar surroundings as he catalogued everything he saw. He appeared to be in an alley, a wall at his back and two on his sides, stretching up into the darkened sky. The stars were shining so brightly it appeared to be daylight, plus there was light spilling from the other end.
Except everything, dull and dingy as it was, had a metallic sheen and he could see movement at the alley's mouth. Metal on metal, the sound of moving machinery and distorted words. His thoughts were working so quickly, he could swear he could hear gears whirling and fans kicking on as his processors worked- wait what ?
Slowly, Sam shuttered his optics, flexed his digits and clenched his servos. He took a deep breat- no, he vented .
He wasn't human anymore. Dear God, what happened? Where was he?
Images flashed, two side by side, one showing a planet glittering like obsidian in the light shining from its surface, the other, the design of the frame he was. He would have gasped for breath at the sight of the planet which resembled a picture Optimus had once shown him as he spoke of the days before the war, before the destruction and the massacres.
Cybertron, I am on Cybertron. I am a Cybertronian on Cybertron…before the war?
He spent a moment dwelling in sheer disbelief, recalling the voice that had spoken to him, had that been Primus? The Cybertronian deity Bee spoke about?
Seven Primes, long dead holding the Matrix, hidden for thousands of years, staring, optics boring into him, small, human Sam Witwicky-
Sam shook himself, forcibly turning his attention to the second image, the one he suspected answered his second question. He blinked, his thoughts taking a horrified turn as he recognized Optimus . His breath hitched ( he didn't breathe anymore ) was he in Optimus' frame? But- no, there was Sentinel and the barest touches of Megatron -
He couldn't do this.
He didn't know how long he spent with his eyes ( optics) closed with his hands ( servos ) over his face ( faceplates ), his fingers ( digits ) digging into his h- helm. The sound that burst from his throat ( vocal cords ) was a sob ( a keen ) and he would have wept ( but there were no tears ).
Optimus was dead, and Sam was in the past, in his frame, melded with the Prime's once brother and his traitor of a mentor.
He didn't know how long it took until he calmed down, when he was ready to see what he looked like, but he pulled the screen back up and studied himself. He was Optimus, mostly, but the shoulders, the arm guards were- other ( Megatron, Sentinel, what did it matter? ).
He rather liked the paint job, all sleek and polished black with artistic lines of an AllSpark blue that vaguely rang a bell in the back of his head ( the Dynasty of the Primes will endure- ) and he looked intimidating with blue optics and his tall frame and maybe even deadly with- was that a sword?
It was , the schematics helpfully informed him. He didn't have the middle-gripped, double blade and shield combo, that Sentinel had used, it was a rectangular piece of a dull black metal with a hilt that could be used as both a single and double-handed hold. Nothing like Optimus' sword. There was no other weapons... although…it appeared he did keep Sentinel's blasters ( which one did he use? ). Which were smaller and in his arms…save they weren't called arms anymore. Because according to data text scrolling across his vision, he was a fully-functioning, one-of-a-kind piece of Cybertronian machine. With a new-found knowledge in both language, culture, history and how to take proper care of himself.
(blueblueblue singing the Song sung for generations)
He needed a mirror.
Carefully, he heaved himself to his feet, deliberately ignoring the familiar sounds that he never expected to be the cause of, and lifted his foot- pede - to take a step closer to a part of the metal wall that held enough of a shine to see his reflection in. He stared in silence at himself, struck dumb at actually seeing what had been done to his ( Optimus' body) ...frame.
His ey- optics , ( such blue) shone brightly in the dim lighting, even as his gaze scanned the image in front of him. His frame was slightly smaller than Optimus's towering height and he wasn't quite as wide, rather more compact, as if he was built for speed and agility, rather than strength. He looked similar to Optimus, but the differences were enough that he didn't see his friend ( closer than a brother ) staring back at him.
Which, thank Primus for small mercies. ( what mercy was this?! Optimus was-! )
Several little screens popped up into his…vision, the glyphs of Cybertronian language suddenly making perfect sense to his…brain module. One was pointing out his current location (the City of Simfur) followed by a list of other major cities that were nearby. The other was going into further details on the specifications of his bi-pedal and his alt-mode. His alt-mode drew his attention immediately. Something way better than the Porsche he had wanted so long ago. Something that on Earth only the ridiculously wealthy could afford and a visionary engineer could only dream of. It was some combination of a helicopter/fighter jet hybrid and some high-end sports car. At least, that was what it looked like to him.
Nothing remotely human-designed.
There were no words to describe what he was now feeling. Realization was creeping up on him, of what he wasn't, of what he was.
I…am a robot, Sam thought fuzzily to himself, even as he could hear Bumblebee's offended radio-speak reprimanding him for that offensive statement.
Only...
Bee's not here and this is the past he doesn't even know me, he realized in horror, I'm not even human anymore and everything is metal and dead and I am alone, oh God, I can't do this! I can't-
A surge of something (blueblue blue ) cut off his thoughts before they could trail into incoherent babbling and his hands - no they're servos now- came up to clutch at his face-plate. His battle mask slid down in an almost instinctual reaction to his rising adrenaline- he didn't have a human body anymore- and he could feel as every function slid from non-combative into battle-ready.
A battle-processor booted up ( ProwlIronhideOptimus ), informing him of open escape routes and detected spark signatures.
It was too much-
His back-plate hit the wall and he slid down to fall on his skidpad as some distant thought remarked that it was a good thing no one seemed to notice him so whatever was happening, an update to his software, a panic attack, whatever , it would happen with some privacy. He was almost grateful.
Right before his processors informed him of an emanate shutdown to prevent damage due to a sudden influx of a massive amount of data. Going by the familiar feel of energy running through him, he was pretty sure he knew what it was, because of course .
Nano-kliks before he crashed, Sam, now named Janus Prime, irritatedly wondered why , when the AllSpark was most assuredly destroyed (by his hand), did it leave pieces of itself everywhere?
Sam didn't know how much time passed before he was waking up, but when his optics came online, he registered a tiny face and wide blue optics staring squarely at him. His jaw dropped open in disbelief. A tiny Cybertronian was standing on his chest plate, wide red optics fixated on him. It chirped at him, a wordless question as it cocked his head to the side. A small noise escaped Sam's mouth, or rather intake, as he reached up to prevent the sparkling from falling as he sat up.
It was adorable.
He noticed worriedly that it was remarkably small even compared to his servos, also his (her?) frame was dull and scrapped in several areas. Sam had no idea what a sparkling was supposed to look like, non-Con and healthy, and he certainly had no idea how to take care of one. However, according to the vivid blue glyphs now scrolling across his view…it would appear that he had some help.
Protection-Prime-Sparkling-War- Protection.
Sam flinched at the wave of energy that flexed its invisible hands into his processors. A curse dropped out of his intake, as the sparkling in his han-servos shifted to grip his digits more securely.
Slag it to the Pit, that's the AllSpark and it's in my head.
"Oi! Lookit wha' we've found here!"
Unfortunately, before Sam could get over this bit of information without descending into hysterics, a voice echoed from the opening of his current hiding place. The once-human instinctively turned up his senses, caught the motions and distinct energy field of spark-chambers of several bots. The little one made a fearful whimper and cowered in his palm. Sam was resigned. Of course, it was always him.
"Stay back! "
At the feminine voice tinged with fear, frustration and anger, Sam couldn't help the swell of indignation at the very familiar tone the owner of the voice was using. When handsy guys wouldn't leave you alone and take a simple 'no' for an answer.
( He wasn't going to think of Mikaela, wondering if she found her way into Chicago or if she was watching from someplace safe. Wouldn't think about whether or not she had heard about his death-)
The girl ( femme ) sounded like she was getting ready to smack some sense into some idiots, but the metal-on-metal contact noise that followed was accompanied by a feminine cry of pain. His optics narrowed as he reached for his sword ( he knew this sword as if he had wielded it all his life ), carefully setting the sparkling on his shoulder as he gathered his pedes underneath him. With a twist of his digits, he wrapped them firmly around the hilt ( they settled as if he had done this a thousand times before) and leaned far back enough into the shadows that passing glances should slide right off of him. He made a hushing sound to the child clinging to the grooves between his shoulder and back plate, which, thankfully, was understood.
Just in time as a small ( compared to his vastly large frame) feminine bot moved further into the alleyway, followed swiftly on her heels by five other mechs, who were all taller and stouter than she. While the femme's frame was mostly clean and gleaming with a glittering shine not unlike his own, coupled with a weave of fabric wrapped about her neck, the mechs were dull and dented, obviously worn with several mismatched armor plates. They also carried weapons, blasters and one held some kind of staff that included a ball of visible energy on one end, while the femme was unarmed.
Which, lightstaff. Sam was so going to get him one of those because that obviously belonged in a Star Wars movie.
( He wasn't going to think about how many thousands of years he was in the past, if he was where he thought he was. There was always hope he was wrong, that he was mistaken...)
Now that they were closer to his hiding position, Sam could see the look on their face...plates, as the mechs continued their advance even as the femme's frame was bristling defensively. Her optics were frantically scanning the impossibly high walls and the thick shadows she was rapidly approaching, before something like resignation touched her body language. Her focus switched to her opponents, looking for weak points even as Sam had seen the moment she took in her situation and saw the odds stacked against her.
(Sort of like the odds always seemed to be stacked against him and the Autobots)
It was obvious to him, that the mechs were some kind of thugs with weapons training and confidence in their power over the femme, who was both significantly smaller and seemingly untrained, while the femme kept scanning for assistance from another absent bot. The designs on her frame greatly resembled his own, only they were in a much darker blue and were concentrated on her shoulder plate, gauntlets and her arm guard.
Sam diverted his attention and focus on those very familiar lines of blue on her frame. Just like the ones that covered his entire body. He internally sighed and mentally poked the bundle of AllSpark sitting comfortably in his processors.
What did you do?
Not-alone. Future-Servant. Protect .
His vision switched to a rapid download and comprehension of temples, the ranks of priests, priestess, those in training, those in apprenticeship, differences in the two and all the places where a temple stood in correlation to his current location. No matter that robot-him understood it, human-in-the-robot-him needed a minute to comprehend the sudden swell of information. He squinted at the screen. There was a temple not that far away, at least by Cybertronian standards, maybe ten or fifteen miles or so? Or whatever they called their measures of distance.
Still, the situation was appearing to be escalating and whatever aid the femme was looking for was absent and probably wasn't going to make it in time to avoid injury. Besides the fact the AllSpark wanted him to help, the femme looked pretty young. Not to mention Sam had a rather obvious talent, some might even say gift , for saving alien robots. The fact that he was now magically one of them really didn't change that. So when one of the mechs lunged forward with the lightstaff and the smaller bot went down, throwing her arms up to defend her head, Sam took that at his cue to intervene.
His battle-processor had been idling in the corner of his vision but as he leapt forward, one servo gripping the hilt of his sword, it snapped to the forefront and everything was suddenly in perfect clarity.
( There was nothing to fear, his movements were graceful, each calculated, deliberate and not an instant wasted. It was obvious he knew how to wield this sword with laughable ease.)
Of course, he had a disadvantage, one he quickly rectified by scooping the sparkling still clinging to his back off and gently depositing the little one into the femme's lap.
According to the switch from non-combative functions to his battle-processor and the subroutines for thousands of sword styles that were stored in his- his memory banks, Sam was- or rather Janus Prime- was very familiar with battle. Sam was too, but in the art of dodging, deflecting and using speed and agility to get away , not in the use of a sword to fight any Decepticons. Not that these were Decepticons, not even close to the level of a 'Con, but the point still stood.
With an ease reminiscent of Optimus Prime himself ( Optimuswasdead-don'tthinkaboutit-) , Sam effectively and efficiently beat down the four followers and decapitated the leader, almost as an afterthought. It wasn't the first time he killed ( an enemy, what does species matter? Death is death. ) someone, but never with such ease . He reached out a pede and with a grimace twisting his lips ( dermas ), kicked the severed chunk of metal with enough force for it to rocket straight out of his sight. He discreetly snagged the lightstaff and after a second of hesitation, stuffed it into the interdimensional subspace all Transformers had. Which was a weird feeling, but he was keeping that, damn it. He glanced down at the remaining four as he sheathed his weapon on his back and turned to the apprentice priestess who was gaping at him, the little sparkling held protectively against her chest ( spark chambers ).
"Are you alright?"
As this was the first time he had spoken, Sam had not been prepared for his voice. It was not the one he remembered. Deep and firm, commanding with the concern he felt for the femme gentling the tones, it sounded nothing like the voice of Sam Witwicky.
His voice reminded him of Optimus and a surge of emotion in his chest prevented him from saying any more. Had he still been human he would have tears pricking his eyes and a lump in his throat, he was a robot ( Cybertronian ) now, but the emotion was still the same. He deeply missed the Prime (His Brother-Father-Family, dead now, gone and he was not-) and even if he were to see him again, he would not be the one Sam had grown to care so much for.
His mind ( processors ) lost in memory, he didn't see the startled awe and astonished reverence paints itself ( projects itself through her energy field ) on the femme's face( plates ). He also just barely missed the slight glow to his own detailings on his frame, but the femme did not.
The sparkling gave an inquiring chirp, that drew Sam's attention back to the present, while the femme holding him made a noise that didn't translate into any known language and Sam worried a moment that he would be unable to speak the language, and Dear God (Primus), that was another problem on top of the body transplant that he did not want to have a mental breakdown over later. Thankfully, his fear was unfounded as when a shout from behind them came, it was understandable if impolite. Although, it didn't relieve him, rather put him on his guard as the hostile tones were unmistakable.
He bent his knees (knee-joints) his fingers ( digits ) wrapping around the sword's hilt once more as an older, stately femme, taller and decked out in ceremonial battle armor with two… warrior-priests? The information he had received earlier on the staff of the temples informed him warrior-priests wore red accented silver scarves about their necks, and were extensively trained in combat for guarding purposes. They both boasted similar electric staffs ( lightstaffs ) with daggers and probably a blaster or two. Whatever threat they saw in him, going by their increasingly hostile movements and the sharp scrape of metal against metal as they drew their weapons, were quickly stalled by the priestess shoving an arm into their path.
"Enough!"
Her voice boomed into the reduced space, echoing with power and ringing with authority. She took a step forward and ooo , Sam did not like her. That haughtiness packed into her posture and gait rubbed him the wrong way, immediately. It brought Sentinel to mind, and Sam had plenty of issues with that glitched screwdriver.
Sam ran a scan over her, just as she barely did the same to him. She was shorter than him, less armored, but she carried a single sword, although shorter than his. Her plating was a dark blue with shades of an ice-blue trailing down her sides and disappearing into her black plates, while the same familiar detailings were done in bright silver and covered her entire top half. Her optics were white ( not naturally sparked, rather deliberately changed ) and there was a metallic silver shroud around her shoulder plates with a pattern of repeating three dimensional squares.
Before he could continue his perusal of the unknown bot, who was probably the one the younger femme was waiting for, she stepped forward in a practiced, vaguely powerful stride. This one was clearly used to her authority and wielding it, drawing his attention to her face( plate) easily. Confidence sung from her every motion in such self-superiority that it was almost visible.
" You !"
At the audible tones of a beginning accusation in haughty tones, Sam changed his position to a defensive one over the young femme's still prone form, stretching his senses for his sparkling and if the other would make a threatening move. While the priestess herself gave no impression other than severe displeasure and arrogance, the two at her back shifted their weapons, intending on drawing his attention away from their charge.
Sam kept his gaze on the femme, entirely ignoring the two guards flanking her sides.
"You," she repeated, ignoring his towering height and deadly weapon held with ease in an intentionally condescending manner, as if the threat he posed to her was easily ignored because he would yield to her.
( Who did she think she was, talking to him like that? Sam had not yielded to Megatron even as a fragile organic lifeform, he had not broken under the weight of the AllSpark overwhelming his mind. He would not yield to this...this...TRANSFORMER BARBIE! )
"How dare you?! Do you know what you have done? No, you must have, for even if you proclaim your ignorance , your innocence, it will not be accepted!"
Sam totally blanked out.
What. The. Hell.
His confusion must have been visible even through his battle-mask, because the priestess's temper lit up like a supernova. She bristled, her armor moved and plates shifted and flared as she took an obviously meant-to-be intimidating step forward, reaching for her own weapon, which from the beautiful and artistic lines was more of a ceremonial prop than a real sword. Easily breakable. Before she could speak another word, or rather hurl another accusation, the girl ( youngling ) scrambled to her pedes and darted in front of him in a protective stance, his sparkling still cradled in her arms. Sam swiftly moved to a place where he could easily switch places in case the other three got any smart ideas. You never knew with people ( Cybertronians ) like that.
" No! Priestess ( trailings-of-ice-and-dust-in-the-wake-of-celestial-objects ) Icetrail, he is not what you think! He is-"
"Apprentice! Do not interrupt me! This one has trespassed against us and must be dealt with accordingly!"
Newly identified Icetrail turned, a look of displeasure and disdain curling on her dermas, to the little one in the apprentice's arms and Sam registered threat without a second thought. Barely an astro-second later he moved , in an almost unconscious reaction and drew his sword against this Priestess Icetrail's neck. She would have stumbled back, but Sam anticipated that reaction and reached out, grabbing her chest plate and holding her firmly against the edge of the blade, cutting a sharp look to the guards. They had both drawn blasters, aiming them at him.
He had the advantage though, with a hostage, a valuable hostage so he wasn't overly concerned. That, right there, with the shadow caused by the femme in his hold, he noticed the light coming from those etchings in his armor and going by the reflection in the highly polished armor in front of him, his optics were gleaming as well. The priestess was significantly shorter than him, barely reaching to his chest( plates ) but that only enabled him to get a good grip on her frame.
He returned his attention the priestess who was vibrating with fury, satisfied that the two wouldn't be interfering.
" You…. dare ?! "
Her voice was barely a whisper, but Sam ignored her dramatics to open his information download on the priests and priestesses, ranks and such while continuing to stare directly into her optics as he accessed the data. It took barely a nano-klik, but when he comprehended its contents, such as the exact rank he held, he smiled. Which incidentally ignited the femme's rage into higher heights. Before Icetrail could offer further insight into the perceived slights against her, he shoved her back into the arms of her guard, raising his sword instinctively to block the automatic blaster shots and with a backswing, neatly sliced off the ends of their weapons.
He took a step back, which made the guards pause at the retreat, and laid a protective servo on the shoulder of the youngling, still holding his sparkling in her arms. Going by the sudden comprehension in the guard's energy field, they were quickly reevaluating the situation. From Sam's standpoint, Priestess Icetrail threatened his charge and the youngling protecting him. He was obviously a mech of strength and power, his reaction was perfectly normal in that situation. Of course, now that his front was unobscured, the exact detailings he bore were suddenly very visible, especially with the soft blue glow emanating from them.
"As it so happens to be," he spoke with amusement, ignoring the radiating fury Priestess Icetrail and the dawning realization from her two guards, "It is not I who dares, rather you, Priestess . Allow me to demonstrate."
Sam cackled in glee from the safety of his mind as he grasped the AllSpark energy he still carried and directed it to the details which were apparently conductive designs specifically made for only High Priests, High Priestesses, Primes and High Lord-Protectorates. While the symbols were different for each rank, if you had a strong connection to the AllSpark as aforementioned ranks did you got sigils that lit up as the ultimate proof of authority.
So in directing AllSpark energy to the etchings, they lit up like a Christmas tree, bathing the surrounding metal in glittering blue, perfect light for seeing and feeling ( since Cybertronians were apparently empathic and could project emotions ) how almost everyone's entire frame radiated absolute shock. Even the arrogant Priestess. Such things could not be faked, even if their meaning was unknown.
Optimus has sigils on the side of his helm and on his shoulder plates. Megatron had them down his chest plates. In the time that Sam had known both of them, he had only seen Optimus's marks glow once and that was when he shoved the Matrix of Leadership into the Prime's spark.
It was a slight miscalculation to the power levels he channeled when the femme at his side jerked back and fell to her knees, her emotions screaming of shock and terrified reverence before she proceed to shut down. Sam let the energy recede and bent down to make sure he hadn't harmed her, but his attention was quickly drawn away by an exclamation.
"W- what …?!"
The previously bold and confidant femme could barely get the single word out as she took several steps back, in stupefied awe and dawning horror.
The guards, on the other han- servo , recognizing the situation they were in, followed their protocol and quickly dropped to their knees and bowed their heads. Their charge, however, wasn't as accepting as they were. There was desperation twisting her emotions and she reached once again for her blade, although this time, Sam was less inclined to continue to allow her temper tantrum to potentially endanger his sparkling and the femme that were laid out on the ground at his feet ( pedes ).
It was so simple to reach out and drive his hilt into the priestess's helm with enough force to render her unconscious. He didn't bother catching her as she crumpled to the ground. The two by her side didn't move, didn't raise a servo in aid to her.
The temple guards were frozen in stillness and when Janus Prime stepped up to loom above them over the fallen form of their charge, for an instant they feared for their lives. Sentinel would have demanded no less. To their relief, he only commanded them to take the priestess and lead him to the Simfur Temple. There was no question of disobedience, after all, going to the temple was the best choice in this situation.
The Prime ordered one to carry Icetrail, and the other, the apprentice while he himself bore the sparkling, perched on his shoulderplates. No matter how odd the sight they made, the Prime ignored all the stares he received on their journey. That the Prime remained in his bi-pede form and forced the temple guards to do the same didn't strike them as suspicious, they simply obeyed his words.
Still, their thoughts were full of the newly discovered Prime, overflowing with the energy of the AllSpark itself! His sigils, his bearing, the way he spoke as all Primes did, this was undeniable proof of another Prime, of hope for the future!
This information needed to be delivered to Sentinel Prime at the earliest possibility.
About halfway to their destination, the youngling woke, understandably startled to find herself in the arms of a temple guard. Her shriek of surprise drew Sam's attention so he paused for a moment for the femme to make her way to side his again. Although it appeared that her limbs were still unsteady and tripped over her pedes. Sam easily caught her and ignored the vivid embarrassment emanating from her spark. He watched in vague amusement as she immediately began apologizing before identifying herself as ( echoes-of-song-and-soaring-in-freedom-air ) Songbird.
Sam only blinked at the voice-over he heard as he gently set her down and handed her his sparkling (which, come to think of it, was probably a result of that blast of AllSpark right after his panic attack. His sparkling, huh?). The femme, Songbird, automatically took him and they stared into each other's optics for good ten seconds. She settled him against her chest plates with a quiet happy noise that the sparkling mimicked. Of course, when Songbird then asked for the little one's name, the one thing that came up in Sam's (still grieving mind) processor was a vivid image of Will Lennox.
"His name is ( one-who-is-determined-and-brave ) Ironwill."
Newly named Ironwill chirped happily and made little grabby motions towards his creator. Songbird quickly hushed him when Janus showed no signs of moving to comply. Also, the fact that Icetrail was waking up and was offended at being handled like a piece of metal and decided to make her opinion very well known- at least until Janus leveled a harsh glare at her.
Icetrail shut up instantly, but she decided that they were moving too slow and thus took the lead at a faster pace with only passing look to her apparent superior. It wasn't even that long before the roadways opened up into a large square area, walls lined with stalls selling wares and hundreds of Cybertronians milling about. Temple Guards, Priestesses, Priests, their apprentices and trainees were out and about as well, and they were the first to focus on their group.
It didn't help that both his height and his company drew half of their attention as soon as they cleared the constructions blocking their view of the temple. But Sam applied his much practiced technique of ignoring everyone and keeping his head high, shoulders down, optics forward and the thought of murder at the forefront of his... processors.
Unlike on Earth ( this wasn't Earth ), this worked instantly and there was a path cleared, wider than Priestess Icetrail had made with her presence alone. She had also slowed her pace, turning around to no doubt, attempt to control his entrance to the temple. Sam ignored that poor attempt of control and strode past her, Songbird keeping up close behind him.
The temple was situated in the middle of square and was enormous, a rectangle shape with slanted sides and set up on an upraised foundation. There were two levels of steps, and the one leading into the temple was framed by doors with bars and thick metal, enough to deter even the strongest of enemies. The Guards were everywhere, each with varying weapons, although most predominantly was a sword, daggers at the waist and blasters in their arms.
Upon reaching the first level of stairs, Sam made sure to show no hesitation in continuing the journey as his every reaction was intensely analyzed and would surely be remembered later on. He acted as if he had walked up these steps before, a thousand times before, as if he was familiar with his surroundings ( he ignored that sensation in the back of his head that looked around with recognition- ). His gait was confident and relaxed, moving up the steps to the second level that put him directly in front of the entrance.
Truly, Optimus had only showed him once, what this structure had looked like before the destruction. Never in his life , did he imagine that he would be here , walking up to the entrance of the Temple of Simfur. It was something Sam never in a thousand vorns imagined he would be doing. It was an impossibility and the only reason he knew about it was because when he destroyed the AllSpark, he couldn't help but ask Bee about his reaction to it in Hoover Dam. Bumblebee was hesitant to speak, but once he had, he only once mentioned he stood guard over the AllSpark in the temple during Optimus and Megatron's reign.
( You left me no choice, brother. )
He was also beginning to realize that since the AllSpark was here , there was no war (yet) , that would likely mean that he was in the peace period, the Golden Age somewhere in the early or middle years of Optimus, a beloved ally and someone he was proud to call friend and think of as family, and Megatron, a hated enemy whom he had directly caused or led to his death, several times, ruling the planet as friends - as brothers .
Sam was so screwed.
( His spark ached )
Still...it was for Optimus to never have to stand over the body of a mech who had once been his brother, who had murdered people he cared about. Optimus would never have to leave a Cybertron, ruined by a war that was started and continued because of Megatron, his brother.
Sam…had no idea how to set out to accomplish that. But, no sacrifice, no victory, right?
The good ol' Witwicky family motto.
As he drew nearer to the entrance, he became aware of... sound in the back of his head ( processors ). It was probably the AllSpark, as that was the obvious conclusion, but that didn't explain the reactions, or lack of, he was, or wasn't, having. Oh he could still feel that nigh overwhelming grief- Optimus, Ironhide, everyone- Earth was gone , wasn't even there . He could feel all the emotion associated with that, but it was... old. Tired and worn out, like he had lived with it, endured it and oh , it would never stop hurting, but he could be , even with the pain.
It scared him. That other (alien) part of himself ( whatifitwasOptimusMegatronSentinel?) that he could hear, that reacted as he did. Had he still been human ( he wasn't human anymore ) he would have been shaking and babbling incoherently, unable to process or comprehend his situation, much less take in new information and act on it.
So he put it aside, like he did with the AllSpark ( it never left , even now it's still there ), and the Matrix of Leadership ( it is not found , it is earned , it is there now, safely hidden away in your spark, quiet until you call upon it ), with the Primes and life and death, and all the other stuff he didn't think about. He boxed it up and put it somewhere else. He needed a lot of what he put into that box, but it was easy to separate it now that he had the processing power for it.
Human-who-is-Sam.
Cybertronian-who-is-Janus-Prime. ( Welcome to the ranks of Prime- )
He could live with that. ( He didn't have a choice. )
"Sentinel Prime, your Excellency! High Lord Protector Megatron! Optimus Prime! There is an urgent matter that requires your attention!"
On second thought, as he ascended into the temple, passing under the supports of the entrance and striding straight into a gathering of future Autobots ( I would like to stay with the boy- Boy, you returned for me- ) and Decepticons ( Sam, I'm going to kill you, slowly, painfully, but first- We must have the brain on the table! ). Having Sam, who-is-Janus, and Janus, who-is-Prime, while not actually being human-Sam, was probably a good thing. Janus was calm and in control, he wasn't moved unless he allowed it and Sam? Sam was an ordinary human ( not anymore, you never were) and if Sam had been in control, standing in his place, he would have offlined instantly as every gaze turned towards him. He suppressed the fear that swelled up in his spark. He could do this, he had seen Optimus do it countless times.
( You are a soldier now)
He could do this. He'd done it before- never willingly (not until it was ) when he'd been put on the spot. When fate had called on him, made him choose where no one else could or would .
When he had been surrounded by screaming bleeding dying people in Mission City, when he had stared up at the optics of one who had saved him, and the insanity of one who would have seen him dead. When he had been asked to kill a friend the first time ( -put the cube in my chest- ) and he had made one of his first battlefield choices, because he would not- could not- see Optimus dead. And when the time had come that he had stood alone, in a tomb, staring at a pile of dust while his family waited for him to come out with a Matrix he had not yet earned.
When hope had died, smothered and crushed, when leaders had turned on him, had gone to the Well before their time, when he had been the only one left .
Just as it was now, when hope seems gone, and yet somehow, someway , here he stood, in a time long past alone in a crowded room with opportunities stretching before him, if only he had the strength of will to reach for them-
( The strength to answer Fate's Call one more time, for what else could this be? )
( blueblue blue )
The AllSpark began to Sing, such a sound of joy, triumph, of happiness and of sorrow, tragedy and longing . The Song in his processors was echoed by the one flowing in the middle of the sanctuary, Singing of curiosity, of anticipation and of welcome.
Sam- Janus - could feel a tug , right in his spark, where the Matrix of Leadership rested, pulling it strongly towards the large Cube rotating on a corner nearest to the back of the room. There were cuts in the wall, leading into hallways, stairs lining the far wall and there were too many exits , too many places for people to come and go.
Janus didn't like this position, did like how everyone's attention was fixated firmly on them ( a flash of yellow and black in there corner of his optic- ), but he couldn't ignore the pull.
This is all your fault.
You-Who-Are-Prime.
Save-Them.