Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. Transformers belongs to Hasbro. Freezeframe and Lithium, however, are mine.

*Read Author's Notes First!*

At LAST! The long awaited first chapter of my first Transformers fanfic is here! The title comes from a poster I made for it about a week ago. You can check it out here! maskedlady710/art/Spark-of-Ice-901546050

Relax; find your center. The young femme-bot took a slow, deep breath where she stood – crouched on a metal beam that ran the width of her room below the ceiling. You can do this, Freezeframe. And yet no matter how many times she thought so, she still didn't know if she could. Her arms outstretched on either side, Freeze closed her digits, opened them, closed them again, then opened them again, grasping at empty air. The issue wasn't so much balance – rather, it was hoping she'd calculated the jump correctly. If not, then she was likely to break the floor, a servo – or both. Well, only one way to find out. Her processor made up, Freeze stretched her arms in front of her, one hand laid over the other. After gathering momentum in her legs, she drew in one last sharp breath, closed her optics, and propelled herself backwards.

For a split nanoklik, she felt a rush of wind as she sailed through the air – when she remembered just in time to shoot her arms out on either side again. No sooner had she done so than her feet made contact with solid ground. With a gasp, her optics flew open again, and she felt a new kind of rush flow through her circuits. "Yes!" Freeze hissed with a fist pump. "Nailed it!" Told ya you could! And yet, as she looked around her room, the light within her spark dimmed just as fast as it'd been illuminated. Oh, right. Just me, as usual…

"But not for too long," Freeze reminded herself as she then headed to her private washroom. There was that party she'd be attending tonight – and not simply out of social obligation. She knew plenty of the others who'd undoubtedly be there, and it wasn't as if they were criminals simply because of their luxurious lifestyles – at least, as far as she knew. Nonetheless, as if it were a faulty line of coding, Freeze felt the small but significant weight of dread in her chest. Fortunately, the sensation abated somewhat when she reemerged from the washroom, and saw that one of her favorite things in the universe – the Aurora Borealis – had once again appeared, now that the sun had set completely.

Freeze hastened outside onto the balcony, planted her elbows on the banister, and leaned forward as far as she could without the risk of falling over. Her optics went wide with wonder as she stared at the waves of light, dancing across the starlit sky in a stunning multitude of colors. In her earlier years, she'd wished she'd been forged with flight capabilities so she could soar through it all, free – if only briefly – from all her cares and worries. Although it was a phenomenon she'd witnessed countless times, never did Freeze tire of it, and never she would. After all, it was one of the few true joys afforded her here.

That irony compelled her to direct her gaze downward – down hundreds of feet toward another site that, while not nearly as breathtaking as the one above, was beautiful in its own way. Despite her knowledge of the existence of other worlds, this one, for all its faults, was the one Freeze had called home all her life: Cybertron – a planet inhabited almost entirely by sentient robotic beings such as she. She'd made her own specific dwelling in Iacon – Cybertron's capital and northernmost city.

Freeze sighed as she took in the innumerable neon lights of the metallic metropolis. Even from here she could see the alt-modes of so many other Transformers as they made their way through the maze of streets. It was another site that'd filled her optics many times. In this case though, she often wondered what life was like for the citizens who didn't live at the top of a towering skyscraper. What did they all do for a living? What sort of friends did they all have? Would any of them be willing to befriend her and not simply her immense wealth? And yet, as always, Freeze's stare drifted even farther, past the proverbial pearly gates and toward the literally and figuratively darker outskirts of the capital – namely, its slums.

This was an even more painful irony. In spite of her vast riches, she was often at a loss as to how she should help those less fortunate than her. But there was more to it than simple charity. Not that Freeze wasn't grateful – she knew she had little to complain about. Back when she was forged more than two megacycles ago, she'd been made the protégé of another femme-bot named Lithium. Then and now, Freeze's mentor was one of Cybertron's leading manufacturers and distributers of that most precious of resources – energon.

Yet despite all she'd learned at Lithium's servos, Freeze's auditory circuits had also picked up certain rumors – such as that she'd been forged at Lithium's request specifically so the latter could have a trophy heiress. Lithium herself never confirmed these rumors, but neither did she ever deny them. Even so, she taught her student everything she knew and provided lavishly for her. Or at least, that was how things went until about a hundred kilocycles ago, when disagreements – to put it mildly – about Lithium's more recent and shadier dealings convinced Freeze to separate from her mentor.

And so it had been ever since, with Freeze dividing her time between managing her own energon refineries and storehouses, attending social events, and honing her own unique skills – all of which, she did mostly alone. She supposed it was a better life than most. Yet there were times in which she wondered if there was a lonelier Cybertronian in this city, if not on this planet. Still, for the time being, there was a strange comfort in gazing out at the scene that looked like a giant glowing circuitboard, teeming with cybernetic life. It all seemed so quiet, so peaceful. But for how much longer…?

Freeze shook her head. Now wasn't the time for such thoughts. Just as she pushed them away from her processor, she pushed herself away from the balcony and walked back inside. She stopped in front of her mirror, taking a moment to assess her appearance. Electric blue optics edged with markings resembling snowflakes stared back at her. Aside from some deviations here and there, she was painted icy blue, with white plating. In just about every way, she looked the very image of Cybertronian high-society. And that was exactly what she wanted tonight. Satisfied, Freeze headed for the door. From there, she went straight down the hall to the elevator. And all the while, she listened as her processor gave her a pep-talk. Remember what you are – sophistication and elegance. Show only what's necessary; show nothing that isn't.

The moment she departed the elevator in a tower different from the one she lived in, Freeze knew she'd arrived at her destination. She could tell by the atmosphere – extravagant, refined, and slightly suffocating. When she walked across the hallway and into the main assembly room, she was greeted with the ostentatious sheen of it all.

The floor alone looked crystalline and spotless. The silvery blue walls were shot through with white neon. And all around, Freeze saw mechs and femmes – some she knew, others she didn't – either content to be alone or mingling in small groups. Some were quite tall, others were around her shorter height. Some were showing off their flashy new paint-jobs in a rainbow of colors; others were chatting over glasses of energon at the bar. The only thing that appeared out of place was a lone mech in the corner next to the bar – apparently having downed more cups than he could hold. Freeze smirked. He's gonna have a bad morning – if he's even up by then. But there was only one mech she sought. Not that he'd be too hard to spot.

Indeed, within the next few nanokliks she'd found him – soaking in every bit of attention paid him, his crimson color standing out in stark, flashy contrast to his surroundings. Though his accompanying entourage encircled him nearly entirely, Freeze saw an opening and promptly took advantage of it. "And here's the mech of the hour," she greeted her host amiably. "I'd ask how you're doing, Knock Out, but, you seem to be doing fine."

Knock Out turned at the sound of her voice, and his red gaze lit up at the sight of her. "Ah, Freezeframe, good evening!" he greeted her in turn, his tone laced with superiority. Freeze didn't offer her hand, but Knock Out nonetheless took and kissed it. Customary though it was, she felt relieved when he let it go again. "And I must say you're looking exceptionally fine tonight."

Freeze was equal parts flattered and confused. While she did have a fondness for style, she wasn't one to parade hers around like one of those organic birds – "peacocks" she believed they were called. But neither was she one to be rude, even when a compliment rubbed her the wrong way. "Thank you," she replied, keeping her tone the same. "I suppose I could say the same of you. Are those tires new?"

Knock Out's optics widened in appreciation. "You like them?" he asked, stretching out one of his servos to show off. "I had them commissioned myself. It was a little pricey, but trust me when I say it was worth it. Who knows? Maybe I'll even set off a new trend. About time I started one rather than simply follow them."

"Ah, yes," Freeze nodded somewhat stiffly. "Why get on the train when you can fuel it yourself?" However agreeable she appeared or sounded, Freeze was already feeling Knock Out's vanity like heatwaves from a fire. While not totally insufferable, one would never guess that the mech was actually a doctor. But as she knew all too well, in any profession, wealthy clients meant wealthy returns. If only he cared about his patients the same way he cares about his add-ons.

"Precisely," Knock Out grinned smugly. "And, I assume things are going well for you?" For all his snobbery, he evidently did have some manners.

Freeze shrugged. "In my line of business, pretty much. Other than overseeing my energon–" She paused in alarm as his question finally computed for her. She glanced left and right at the faces on either side of them, wondering if it would be wise to ask if he meant what she thought. But she did attend parties like this mainly to keep tabs on current events. Still, she lowered her voice. "Are you talking about…that riot?"

"What riot?" another femme-bot nearby asked, having apparently overheard – to Freeze's dismay. "I mean, which one are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb, Ariel," Knock Out replied. "As if you haven't heard what happened right here in Iacon seven cycles ago – what those ruffians did." Despite his rudeness, Freeze had to agree. However much she and her acquaintances preferred to keep their own world classy and polished, it was becoming more and more difficult to ignore the increasingly dire signs of Cybertron's instability.

"Oh…oh, you mean that one," Ariel finally put two and two together. "I heard the Elite Guard had to be called in or something like that."

Freeze stepped forward to explain – taking care not to mimic her host's approach. "Like he said, it happened seven cycles ago. Knock Out calls them 'ruffians,' but it may have been instigated by the Ascenticons."

"You mean Decepticons," Knock Out pointed out. "I know they still call themselves Ascenticons, but I like the former better. It's what everyone else is calling them now anyway. And it has a nice ring to it."

"Thank you very much, Knock Out," Freeze nodded with a hint of sarcasm, then turned back to Ariel. "Anyway, a lot of Iacon's poor tried to storm one of the biggest energon storehouses in a riot. And, yes, things got so chaotic that the authorities had to call in the Elite Guard." Only after a few bots had died.

"That's what I thought," Ariel replied. "Gee, I hope they never try something like that again." Freeze had once wished the same, until she realized how naïve it was. As much as she pitied the rioters, she did not condone their barbaric methods. And yet, her desire to make a difference – somehow, someway – remained strong.

"You must admit though, Freezeframe," Knock Out suddenly spoke up, "that the Ascenticons do have a point. The Nominus Edict has been outdated for many kilocycles already – it's high time we did away with it."

For all his eloquence, Freeze got the impression that he was merely repeating their propaganda rather than stating his own opinion. "Maybe they do," she conceded. "Maybe something should be done. If only the Ascenticons hadn't hijacked that message for their own ends – especially now that Megatron seems to be running the show, what with his fiery speeches and all."

"Hey, don't you start badmouthing Megatron!" Dion, another mech, called out. "That guy's a great warrior – he served in the War of the Threefold Spark. If I were poorer than rust, I'd definitely follow him."

Freeze didn't argue with him. What he said was true. But that was far from what she saw kilocycles ago, when she attended the grand opening of Iacon's largest stadium. Megatron had already made a name for himself throughout Cybertron as an exceptional gladiator. Freeze remembered well the hacks, slashes, and sheer brute force with which he'd fought – the way his red optics blazed with driven determination. Perhaps she'd lived a sheltered life until then, but the mech's method of felling his opponents – calculated yet merciless – had stunned Freeze to her spark. Needless to say, she never attended the stadium again. Yet there were other, more positive things which inspired her…

"Actually, that reminds me," Freeze called the attention of everyone near. "I've come up with another neat trick if anybot would like to see it!"

"Have you now?" Knock Out asked, sounding genuinely intrigued. "I must admit I have always admired your acrobatic skills."

"Oh me too!" Ariel exclaimed, her blue optics wide with excitement. "What's it gonna be this time, Freezeframe?!"

Freeze couldn't help but find her enthusiasm endearing. "You'll have to just wait and see." She then looked around the room. "I just need to get somewhere up high. That is, of course, if you don't mind, Knock Out."

"Be my guest," he replied, chuckling at his own joke. "Just as long as it's not near anything that might break."

"Hey, it's not a party till something gets broken!" Freeze joked – or at least tried to. When her attempt fell flat, she swallowed her embarrassment and headed up the stairs for a spot she'd set her optics on.

She couldn't explain it. Maybe it was the model she'd been forged from, or some input from Lithium. In any case, Freeze learned early on that she was more flexible and nimble than most bots, mech or femme. But what to do with it? That was what she wondered for the longest time – until she went to the stadium that first and only cycle. Disturbed as she'd been at Megatron's savagery, she was even more mesmerized by a pair of acrobatic twins who'd performed in between the two sets of matches. Ever since, she'd taught herself all sorts of moves and stunts like those she'd seen. And despite the superficiality of her peers, she liked thinking she'd brought joy whenever she performed for them.

Freeze stood on the banister and turned so that her back faced the open area. And since a sight such as that doesn't usually go unnoticed, she could feel the gazes of everybot in the house on her, as well as hear their puzzled murmurs. But in her imagination, she was back in her own, silent quarters – once again balancing on the metal beam with her arms stretched out on either side. Just as she had then, she slowly breathed in, then out. You can do this. She nodded at the voice within her. Her legs now steady and willing, she reached her arms forward, placing one hand over the other. Finally, Freeze breathed in sharply, closed her optics, and jumped.

Meanwhile, everyone else watched as the icy-blue femme-bot all but flew backward into the air. What followed lasted barely two nanokliks, but her double backflip had them all staring in amazement. The sound of her landing on the burnished floor echoed throughout the room. When she shot her arms up in triumph, everybot could only congratulate her with applause. Some even hastened toward her, expressing their admiration and asking how she could move like that. Freeze did her best to address as many as she could, one by one, until she was approached by Knock Out, Ariel, and Dion.

"Nicely done," Knock Out praised her, his approval remarkably warm. "Truly, you never do fail to astound me. And I can't say that about everyone!"

Ariel, more excited than ever, burst out laughing with delight. "That was amazing, Freezeframe! I seriously wish I could move like you!"

"I seriously wish she'd do something a bit more useful with it," Dion spoke up. "Imagine if she used it to fight instead!"

Freeze grinned – in order to hide her nerves. "Thank you, Dion, but I prefer to entertain rather than do violence." That much was true. But she didn't dare say anything more. Dion couldn't know that his remark had hit closer than he thought. Whether or not he was on to her though, Freeze wasn't eager to take chances. "Actually, I'll catch you all later. I'm gonna go get a drink." Ariel looked disappointed, but she didn't attempt to hold her back. Neither did Knock Out or Dion.

"Very well then," the former dismissed her peacefully. "I suppose you've earned it. Drink all you want, actually. I'm feeling quite generous tonight!"

"As you usually are, Knock Out," Freeze replied. "Thank you." She then turned and made for the bar, where she took the seat at the farthest right of the counter and ordered her drink. Abrupt though it was, it was just as well that she made a hasty retreat, as she was nearing the end of her willingness to flatter the crimson mech – or anyone else for that matter.

It was one of the things her position demanded that frustrated Freeze the most – sucking up to her peers, or being the gracious hostess. Either way, she was playing a role. Even when she was making her rounds at her refineries and storehouses, she had to maintain a level of business-like detachment. She didn't know if she could even remember what it was like to have an intimate conversation with someone. On the one hand, she had become accustomed to living and doing things mostly on her own. She'd even say there was a level of order, security, and control in this arrangement. But on the other…

Realizing then that she was keeping the bartender waiting, Freeze promptly took her drink. She swirled the glowing liquid a couple times, paused to stare at her solitary reflection, then lifted the glass to herself.

"Boo!" The sudden sound at her shoulder made Freeze jump, splashing the energon into her face and onto the counter. She spun around in her seat, but saw no one behind her. Only when she heard a familiar deep-voiced chuckle that seemingly came out of nowhere did she understand what was going on.

"Geez, Mirage!" she snapped at him, immensely annoyed. "I've told you before! Don't do that! And you made me spill my drink!"

The chuckling continued until a tall, sleek white and sapphire blue mech materialized as if out of thin air. "Oh, come on, Freezeframe! Where's the fun in being invisible if you can't sneak up on friends every now and then?"

Freeze rolled her optics and sighed as she took the towel offered by the bartender. "Fair point, I guess." Though she didn't have his disappearing trick, she herself was pretty good at sneaking around. Not that anyone knew this, even Mirage, whom she considered the closest thing to an actual friend she had. Remembering this, Freeze realized she truly was happy to see him. "Speaking of which," she smirked teasingly, "how's the turbofox-hunting?"

She thought she saw something flash in Mirage's blue gaze, but it was gone too fast for her to be sure. "Funny you should put it that way," he replied, his smile having faltered. "They haven't really been showing up much lately. It's like they know the way the winds are blowing, as it were." Already, Freeze had the sense that he was being purposefully cryptic. But before she could ask him what he meant, Mirage looked around briefly – and anxiously – then leaned toward her slightly. "Actually, there's something important that I need to tell you."

Now she understood – or, she did halfway. "Really? What is it?" She was taken aback somewhat when he offered his hand, which was at least twice as big as hers.

"Come with me," Mirage urged, nodding toward a nearby open doorway. "I'd rather not risk anyone else hearing."

Freeze frowned. The mech was usually quite lightsparked and jovial. If he didn't want anybot other than her to hear what he had to say now, it must've been truly serious. "Alright," she breathed. She took his hand and lifted herself from her seat, then let go again to point a suspecting digit at him. "But you'd better promise me this isn't some kinda joke."

"It's not, I swear," Mirage shook his head emphatically. "But, come on." Without another word, he led the way toward the exit. Yet even then, despite the shared weight of their concerns, he turned and said, "By the way, Freezeframe, I really liked what you did back there. When you jumped off of the banister."

For a moment, Freeze didn't know what to say. She knew she shouldn't be surprised he'd seen, and she'd already received such compliments. But somehow, the way he paid her his sounded so genuine compared to all the others. "Thank you," she nodded. "Like you said, why let good talent go to waste?"

Mirage laughed softly, and Freeze smiled at the musical sound of it. But once they entered the hallway – the walls of which were made entirely of glass, allowing the gentle rays of starlight to filter through – the gravity of the situation resettled on both their shoulders. They eventually stopped at the opposite end that was blocked by a closed door. "Alright Mirage," Freeze stood in front of the mech. "What's up?"

Again, he quickly scanned the area. Even when he was sure they were alone, he lowered his voice. "I assume you've heard about the recent riot at the storehouse?"

She may not have wanted to return to that subject, but she wanted to hear Mirage's secret even more. "Yes. When the order went out to all other energon manufacturers, I assigned extra security to my properties."

"That's good." Mirage replied, then shook his head again. "But that's not what I'm talking about." Frustrated at what she felt was evasion, Freeze crossed her arms at him.

"Well then, what are you talking about, Mirage?" Even as she spoke, she chastised herself for sounding impatient. But Mirage didn't appear offended.

"The authorities haven't yet gone public with it, but they strongly believe the Ascenticons instigated the whole thing. Think about it. They were already considered radical even before Megatron rose up their ranks. And ever since they named him their leader, they've become not that much different from terrorists. The more extreme their demands, the more fiercely they strike. It can't be a coincidence."

Freeze was already evaluating everything Mirage had said so far. Correlation didn't always necessarily mean causation. But having witnessed Megatron's true nature, and even listened to some of his diatribes for herself, she couldn't deny how much her friend's report made sense. Except for one part. "But…if the authorities haven't made their findings official yet, how do you know about it?"

"That's what I'm telling you right now," Mirage replied. Like before, he leaned forward and lowered his tone even more. "I've decided to join the Autobots."

For a whole solid klik after, Freeze was once again at a loss for words. The Autobots, for all intents and purposes, were the faction the Ascenticons most strongly opposed. They'd gained their name when Megatron, in one of his speeches, called those who wanted to uphold the Nominus Edict "automatons of the Senate." What Freeze found perplexing was how Mirage's opinions were so unlike those of most of her peers.

"The Autobots?" When he dipped his chin, she went further. "Well, no offense but, why? According to my circle, the Ascenticons already have half of Cybertron at their beck and call, and it's only a matter of time before they have the other half too."

"That may be what you've heard from them," Mirage pointed out. "But it's not what you've heard from me. I may be pretty well off and not have much to worry about personally, but I also have standards. Not that I'm saying you don't. But whatever points the Ascenticons may have, for all their preaching about wanting to bring order to Cybertron, I've seen nothing but the opposite from them."

Freeze nodded in understanding. Again, his reasoning seemed sound to her – it was one of the things she appreciated most about him. Yet like before, one thing didn't add up. "I see what you mean, but…why are you telling me this, of all bots?"

"Because, Freezeframe," Mirage pleaded, "you're the only one I feel I can trust at the moment. Besides, I don't want you to worry about me, and…I don't want to worry about you either."

Freeze felt touched at his concern. They may not have been that close, but it was nice to know they cared equally about each other. Yet when the implications of Mirage's words truly began to sink in, her spark sank just as deeply and rapidly in dismayed dread. "You mean… You think…" Freezeframe, quit stuttering like a fool. "…You think there's gonna be a war?"

Mirage appeared hesitant, then sighed. "I can't predict the future. I do wish there could be a more peaceful solution. But given the way things are going, I can tell this standoff is not going to end well, for either side." He paused, as if preparing for her reaction to what he'd say next. "Orion Pax himself has recently come out in his support for the Autobots."

Freeze's wandering gaze flew immediately back to Mirage at the mention of the one who was to be the next Prime. "Wait, Orion Pax has? When?"

Mirage's optics lit up with astonishment. "Not long after the riot. You didn't know?" Freeze shook her head. She'd known things were serious before; but if what Mirage had just said was true – not that she doubted it was – then Cybertron truly was creaking at the seams.

There'd already been one such conflict during her lifetime. She was one of the last Transformers to be forged before the War of the Threefold Spark. Despite being spared its most grievous aspects, Freeze hadn't been blind to the circumstances. In fact, it'd done something to her innocence – made her mature earlier than she otherwise might have, made her see how unjust and even cruel her world could truly be, and that the line between good and evil wasn't always clear. To have to go through that again…

And yet, while she didn't personally know Orion Pax, everyone knew he'd been chosen to be Sentinel Prime's successor. Those who held that most ancient of titles not only bore the Matrix of Leadership – their main purpose was to guide Cybertron according to the will of Primus, the Great Forefather in whom all Transformers had their origins. Although Freeze wasn't the most religious bot, if the future Prime had already chosen a side, would it not be wise to follow his lead? "Freezeframe?" Mirage's voice suddenly cut into her processor. "Are you alright?"

Snapping out of her self-induced trance, Freeze managed to compose herself. "Yeah," she replied. "Yeah, I'm fine, Mirage. Guess I'm just, trying to take it all in." Realizing she needed more room to think, she asked, "Actually…do you mind if I'm alone for awhile?"

Mirage frowned, but didn't object. "Very well, but…whatever you choose, I'd rather you not be ignorant when you do." He bowed his head in farewell, and then left her in peace.

"When" – that's what he said. Not "if" – "when"… Truly, if Mirage was so certain, then trouble might very well be on the horizon – trouble that boded ill not just for herself but the entire planet. With that thought, Freeze looked beyond the glass walls at the world that was her home. Whatever difficulties it was mired in, her spark ached at the notion of it all being burned to the ground in the fires of war. She wasn't usually one to pick sides, but she hoped Mirage was right, and that she wouldn't regret it or fear she'd made the wrong choice.

Orion Pax let out a weary sigh behind his face-mask as he stared out the windows of his main quarters. He was tired – as he had been for much of the past kilocycle – and now he could barely keep his optics open. Yet even when he closed them, he once again saw what'd gone down seven cycles ago at the storehouse. He'd arrived alongside the Elite Guard when they'd been notified of the chaos. He knew why the rioters were there. But that did not excuse the sheer violence he'd been met with. The sight of half a dozen dead bodies – some looking no more than a hundred kilocycles old – already staining the ground with their spilled energon, was what drove him to give the order to subdue the crowd, and make arrests if need be. But this is not what Cybertron was meant to be.

"Orion?" a deep, gruff voice sounded behind him. Orion looked up to see one of his oldest friends, in both senses of the word. "Orion, you ain't gonna like me sayin' this but, you need some rest."

Orion stood up from his seat. "I know, Ironhide. I know I should extend myself the same courtesy I do others but…how easily can I rest knowing Cybertron is on the brink of civil war?"

"I hear you," Ironhide moved to stand at his side – as he'd done so many times throughout the megacycles. "It ain't easy. Not at all. And I'm not gonna pretend it is. Still…" He trailed off, but went on at Orion's silent prompting. "I mean, I know you're gonna be Prime soon – pardon my sayin' so – but even you have your limits." He halted, probably wondering if he'd said the wrong thing. "W-what I mean is–"

"That I can't stop every single problem before it starts," Orion nodded, not offended in the slightest. "I understand." But that doesn't mean I don't feel it when they do start. It was one of the Prime's many duties, he knew, to bear the biggest burdens that plagued Cybertron and its citizens. Even so, had he been naïve to hope that he'd never again see another war like that of the Threefold Spark? It might've been over for the last two megacycles, but Orion's memory banks were as clear as ever when he thought back on it.

He remembered how Exarchon – a Senator he'd once greatly respected – returned from an exploratory mission, corrupted by an unknown force. He remembered the panic that swept the planet when Exarchon revealed he could control up to three Transformers at once – consuming the spark of every body he stole. In the end, it was only due to the colossal combined efforts of Ultra Magnus's forces and the age-old Titans that millions of lives were saved. Of course, Orion had also played his part. Although Ultra Magnus was at the top of the chain of command, it'd been Orion's first experience at leading. But he wasn't the only one…

"Ironhide, do you think it reasonable to believe the Ascenticons might've had any part in provoking the rioters?" The red mech looked briefly surprised, until Orion added, "I ask you as a friend, not a superior."

"Oh, well, uh…" Ironhide paused to think, until a look of resolution filled his optics. "You know, given what I know of Megatron, 'specially now, I think it's safe for me to say they did." He scowled. "I never did trust that mech anyway." Orion wanted to remind Ironhide not to conflate a leader with their followers, but then thought better of it. The Ascenticons had enthusiastically embraced Megatron, like an organic symbiosis. He had become their central mouthpiece to voice the faction's objections to the Nominus Edict.

In part, Orion understood where they were coming from. It was Nominus Prime, Sentinel Prime's predecessor, who'd put the edict in place to keep another War of the Threefold Spark from ever happening again. It'd been so ever since, until the Ascenticons complained that the laws – specifically those regarding limited forgings and energon distribution – were out of date and broken. But the more they demanded change, the more radical they became. And all the more so when Megatron took up the mantle of leadership.

"Megatron…" Orion breathed. "I know you didn't like him. But we did serve in the war together. We trained under Sentinel together. He had much potential. If only he'd reined in his lust for power instead of letting it blind him to his faults." He stopped, having thought of something that hadn't occurred to him before. "I can't help but wonder if this is partly a revenge campaign against me."

"Hey, even if it is, Sentinel made the right call when he chose you over that warmonger," Ironhide pointed out. "We can all agree on that."

"Maybe," Orion conceded. "As it stands now, I can only hope I made my allegiance to the Autobots official at the right time."

"Ah well, you were gonna have to do it sooner or later," Ironhide shrugged. "If you were to ask me, I kinda wish you'd done it sooner."

Orion would've been inclined to laugh had the situation not been so dire. Indeed, he felt it even more when he heard the beeping sound of his door behind, alerting him to the visitor on the other side. "Orion, it's Ratchet," a familiar voice spoke through the intercom. "I think you need to hear my report." For a nanoklik, Orion put his head in his hands. He'd sent for the doctor earlier to examine his ailing mentor, as was routine every few cycles now. But he had the feeling he was going to dislike what Ratchet had to say even more than usual. Nonetheless, he lifted the door, allowing the white and red medic in.

Judging by the grave look on Ratchet's face, his suspicions had been confirmed. Even so, Orion tried to maintain an air of professionalism. "Alright then. How is he?"

"You mean Sentinel, or the suave mech waiting outside?" Ratchet tried to lighten the mood. But it didn't seem to work. "Okay, so, he is still the crankshaft he's kind of become, with all due respect. And I suppose I could lay it all out in fancy medical terms, but…" He frowned grimly. "Bottom-line, Orion…he's dying. I can't say exactly when, but he's unlikely to see another kilocycle." Orion knew he'd receive such words, but actually hearing them still felt like a blow to his spark. His downcast state must've shown, because Ratchet put his hand on his shoulder, and his optics were sympathetic. "He's lived a good many megacycles. But even Primes aren't immortal."

Including me. Despite the realization, Orion maintained composure. "Thank you, Ratchet. In times as troubling as these, it's always good to have a medic around."

"Even a self-confessed snark such as me?" Ratchet smirked slightly. More seriously, he added, "You're welcome, Orion. I do what I can."

"That's all I ask." Each half-bowed to the other, and the medic departed from the room, his prognosis still ringing in Orion's auditory circuits.

The fact that he was truly about to lose his mentor was so surreal, he knew it was going to take a long time to comprehend – and mourn. This was not only the Prime before him. This was his teacher, his leader, the mech who'd given so many of his kilocycles to mold Orion into a worthy successor. But was he truly? How did he know it wasn't those same kilocycles of intense dedication that eventually led to Sentinel's processor malfunctioning in the first place? Orion had done his best to both keep that under wraps and reason with his mentor to make more rational decisions. Yet for all his efforts, Sentinel's imminent passing couldn't have come at a worse time – not with two factions ready to tear each other to pieces of scrap-metal.

"Hey, Orion," Ironhide cut in suddenly, "hate to ruin the mood but, remember the other mech Ratchet said was at the door – the 'suave' one?"

Now that he mentioned it, Orion knew exactly who he was talking about. "Yes; I sent for him, too. Let him in." Ironhide nodded, and lifted the door.

In walked a mech quite different from the last. He was tall, painted black and white, and even at a glance no one could mistake his alt-mode for anything other than a racing car. Stylish and urbane this new visitor may have been, however, Orion also knew he was part of the Cybertronian military's Spec Ops division – those who went on the most dangerous of missions. And if what he'd read in his records was anything to go by, this was the bot Orion wanted to be his righthand mech. "Jazz. Thank you for coming."

"'Course, Orion…although…" Jazz hesitated, as if he'd read the atmosphere, then sighed heavily. "Pardon me if I have come at a bad time. But I am awful sorry. Sentinel is – was – has been – ugh! What I mean is…a good Prime." Ironhide looked like he was about to speak, but Jazz apparently was able to read his processor, too. "You don't have to worry about a thing. Not a word that I've heard shall pass from this mouthpiece."

"It'd better not!" Ironhide warned him. "Or I'll hunt you down and slowly scrape away that paint-job o' yours!" Despite his words, Orion knew the red mech well enough to know he wasn't speaking out of envy. As way back as the two of them went, Ironhide was older than most of their new allies were likely to be. Moreover, in all the time Orion had known him, his old friend had never aspired to any leadership role.

Jazz appeared unfazed. If anything, he chuckled. "I'll take your word for it, man. Now, if it's all good with the two of you, I think it's time we get down to brass tacks – if you know what I mean. The recruits we've rounded up are lookin' pretty promising, if I do say so myself."

Another thing Orion was hiding from the public – at least until the right time. With all but half of Cybertron having come out in their support of the Ascenticons, he knew he'd have to act fast if he wanted to dissuade more from following them. Given Megatron's background as a war veteran and gladiator, and all the acts associated with the faction that'd happened on his watch, it was highly possible he was raising his own army. Therefore, Orion had reasoned he should do the same. He knew it wouldn't be easy, and that he might even attract the wrong people. But he too was a veteran of the war, and as far as Sentinel's processor had already gone, he'd never renounced Orion as his successor.

Reminding himself that his mentor's spark hadn't gone out – yet – Orion set his own processor on the matter at hand, and directed Ironhide and Jazz to a place away from the door. "Thank you for your time – and your condolences, Jazz. Now…tell us all about these new recruits."

Reviews would be appreciated.

Note #1: I am NOT strictly adhering to any one continuity. I'm sticking mainly with G1 design wise, since that's what I'm most familiar with. For story and worldbuilding, I'm also sticking mostly to G1. But I'm also borrowing a few things from the 2019 IDW run, such as the War of the Threefold Spark, the Nominus Edict, etc. And yes, I will also be adding in some headcanons (but no pairings!). What I'm concerned with most is what will tell a good story.

Note #2: For those unfamiliar with Transformer lingo, here's a glossary.

Optics = Eyes

Servos = Limbs (Arms and Legs)

Spark = Heart, Soul, or Spirit

Processor = Mind

Auditory Circuits = Ears

Mech = Male Bot

Femme = Female Bot

Energon = The main energy resource on Cybertron, used to power Transformers and their tech. It's like their lifeblood.

Nanoklik = Second

Klik = Minute

Cycle = Day

Kilocycle = Year

Megacycle = 1000 Years

Note #3: If you wanna set the mood while you read, I highly recommend these two songs!

1. Opening Scene: watch?v=HS4pnBBpr5g

2. Party Scene: watch?v=UAGMXSD78ro