Vilnacron, in its present incarnation, was an impressive sight. The main city of the Predacon faction, and a thriving community of crime, corruption and politics. Beneath the streets, though, and the many winded sewers that occupied the space there, lay the past. Vilnacron in its heyday, in the after-war ruins and in the pre-splendour dreariness.
Slash was shaken as Megatron dilligently led the two on, coming ever closer to the ruins of grandiour past, and it was understandable. Riding the outer hull of a transport as fast as the Cybertropolis express could do that to anyone.
And now the two of them crept through dark tunnels, past abandoned buildings and over scraps still recognisable as parts of ancient robots. Slash had stared for a long time at the Decepticon sigil on that crushed arm. Megatron had hissed and cajoled, dragging him away, promising that today would change the rest of their lives, leaving defeat in the dust with those crushed in the Wars.
Megatron, Slash reflected, respected his history, but not his ancestors. And so he followed, pulled half by curiosity and half by his friend's promises, and the farther he got, the less damage was visible. And then they were there.
The purplish mech, having fully convinced Slash he was insane, slipped through mounts of debris before holding with an awed gasp. Slash queezed his way through and saw the glory of the past as it looked in the aftermath of bitter defeat.
For miles it spread, ancient Vilnacron. Skyscrapers towered over dusty, metallic streets, and pathways wound their way between them. It was all surrounded by gigantic walls and, by now, defunct weaponries. And in front of the gates, spiked and looming as they were, stood a statue fashioned in steel, its silver-coating long since scraped off, picturing Megatron the First, his fusion cannon at his side, his other arm pointing to the then-Iacon and head held proudly, gazing, it seemed, directly at the two young Predacons who had dared invade the ancient sanctuary.
Megatron, the younger one, blinked and sighed. "Awed yet?" he asked Slash, trying to regain some of his customary flippancy.
Slash chuckled wryly and nodded, a rattling hiss making itself known. "It's gigantic..."
"Indeed. And it is a testomony to what once was, not to mention a warning to what must never be, yeess..."
Slash gave him a disgusted look. "Would you stop with the cryptical nonsense?"
His friend sighed. "What I mean is that our ancestors grew arrogant in their superiority, and though one should do many things with ones inferior enemies, underestamation is not one of them." He drew in a breath to drawl out a speculative 'no', but caught Slash's expression. "And what bothers you now?"
Slash growled, "The way you speak of the Decepticons, Megatron. I know you fault them for losing the War, but such blasphemy--"
"--Is perfectly justified!" hissed Megatron. "This idiocy that you should not speak ill of the fools who lost us everything - everything! - is outdated and oppresive. It generates fear, and while I can appreciate the manipulative facets of such a strategy, it makes it damnably hard to make a point!"
"You talk to much," Slash sighed, looking over Old Vilnacron once more.
"I don't talk enough, that's the problem," Megatron snapped in response. "Am I truly the only one who can see the stagnation, the tyranny we suffer under?"
Slash shook his head in tired resignation. "No, but you are the only one seeing any solution! You've heard it too, when the Maximal peacekeepers tell us of our past. We're dangerous, Megatron. Our ancestors started and upheld the most gruesome war in Cybertronian history!"
"History," hissed Megatron, "is written by the victors. Have we ever heard the praises to the ancient warriors? The ballads written in favour of Starscream and his Seekers? No! But we know they exist..."
"They're banned," Slash began uneasily.
"Exactly! They delete our past, making it a memory but; take our history to make us forget our destinies. I will allow it no longer, nooo..."
Slash stared at his friend. Megatron tended to rave on the conditions of his kin quite often, but he had never skirted so dangerous an issue before. Nor had he ever made promises to do something about it. "What... What are you talking about?"
Megatron started off, in the direction of the gates and the likeness of his namesake, his voice raising in excitement. "They delete our history, take our identities, but no longer!"
Slash fidgeted. "Megatron..."
"Today will change our lives, Slash! Like I promised! We will become the the greatest hope the Predacons have!" He stopped in the shadow of the statue, a small boy in the presense of a giant.
"Megatron!" Slash tried desperately, not sure he really wanted to stop his friend.
"We will resurrect that which was stolen! Slash," he hissed, spinning to look up at the tan mech, optics wide, "history begins today...!"
Surge wove through the heavy tables of Darkmount library. He was a lithe mech, coloured in shades of green and grey, and a faux-golden patch gleamed on his chest, decorated with the same pattern of circles as on his shoulder. He was one of the head-mechs Laserblast had ordered out to find Megatron. And Megatron, Surge knew, liked libraries quite a bit.
So he hurried through the high shelves, stacked with data, searching and scouting for any sign of his fellow student. "Where is he, where is he?" he muttered, twitching in constant hyperactivity. He knew from Slamfist that Laseblast was in a foul mood, as he always were when Megatron decided to ditch everyone.
"Find him?" Leonus asked from two tables over, golden armour seeming as dull as his mood inside the dreary archive.
"N-no," Surge stuttered, twitching and looking around. "I don't think he's-he's here."
"What are you looking for?"
Surge squeeked and spun, looking up into a greenish yellow visor. "That-er... Wh-who wants to know?"
The mech chuckled - a grating sound that did nothing for Surge's nerves. "Forgive me. I'm Darkmist, an assistant librarian. I thought maybe I could help you...?"
Surge fidgeted more, not believing the strange green and purple robot for a nanoclick. "We-we're looking for someone n-named Megatron."
Darkmist chuckled again. "I'm afraid you're half a war and a golden era too late."
"N-no, it's a... student. In our school." He twitched, showing the mech the three circles on his shoulder. "He's g-gone and we n-need to find him. Have you seen him?"
"I'm afraid that you two are the only students I've seen today," Darkmist said regretfully. "Sorry."
Surge blinked and shrugged. "That-that's okay. There are other p-places where he could b-be."
Darkmist nodded. "I'm sure you'll find him eventually. Good luck, both of you."
"Thank you," Leonus growled, suddenly appearing at Surge's side, dragging the hyperactive Predacon with him.
"Wh-what's wrong?" asked Surge as they stood outside, in the harsh light of Cybertron's recently acquired star.
"I didn't like him," Leonus muttered, looking back at the dark entrance of the library.
"Oh, y-y-you're being paranoid," Surge said grumpily. "N-now come on! We have work t-to do." And they hurried away.