My first fan fiction on this website!
Author's Note: This universe follows the events of Transformers: Prime, however, the events of Robots In Disguise, Rescue Bots Academy, and Rescue Bots are set in parallel universe to the universe of the events show here, both of these universes have identical events up to the conclusion of Predacons Rising, when the timeline split due to the revival of Primus, the death of the Thirteenth Prime, and the capture of Unicron's AntiSpark.
"This is insane!" Predaking shouted. The Predacon representative had never gotten along with the other members of the Cybertronian High Command, he was made for fighting on the battlefield, where things really mattered, not fighting with words in a claustrophobic chamber where nothing ever accomplished other than a few meager changes to the system he had helped put in place. "Primacron City has been dedicating all of its resources to fending off the Terrorcon Invasion, my Predacons have starved themselves to conserve Energon, and sacrificed legions to support your helpless soldiers, and you decide to reduce their Energon rations further?!" The ancient warrior slammed his fist down, resulting in minor cracks forming in his dull gray-blue podium, specially built with Tetrinite Alloy, virtually indestructible, at least, until a brute of legends such as himself came along.
"Predaking." His fellow council member Cyclonus boomed, "Calm yourself," he warned. The former Decepticon Commander had little tolerance for the constant tantrums of the High Command, they were supposed to be the best and the brightest, those chosen by Cybertron itself to lead them into a new Golden Age, to forge a new path for the Cybertronian race, and yet here they were, squabbling like freshly sparked Protoforms. As such, Cyclonus relegated himself to intervening in their shouting matches when possible, if only to ease his audio processors. "Now, as you were saying, Representative Arcee, before the Predacon interrupted."
Predaking simply growled. Cyclonus had always made his distaste for beasts clear, he considered them relics of an uncivilized age long past, if Cyclonus had his way, the Predacons would've been sent far off-world, to some distant planet where they could drive themselves to extinction.
"Calm yourself, my friend." He heard from behind, as a hand laid itself on his tense shoulder.. It was the Cyberdroid representative, Metalhawk. Unlike almost every other member of the Command, Metalhawk was sparked after Optimus Prime's revitalization of Cybertron, and despite being only a couple dozen Solar Cycles old at this point, he was wise beyond his years, and was more understanding than the other members of the members of the council, with their old war grudges and biases. He was a breath of fresh air among the stubborn old warriors, and many of them recognized and used his lack of experience and age to prevent him from ever gaining too much influence. "I don't think the other representatives would take too kindly to a mauling of of their members during a meeting, besides, the discussion is coming to a close, let's go out for a drink."
The Scourge Of Athenia was a popular bar on Iacon, and only 15 clicks from Metroplex tower, the citadel of the High Command. Being such a busy area, traffic would've been torture to get through, or ground traffic that is to say. Most airborne Cybertronians, both Autobot and Decepticon, were wiped out during the War For Cybertron and subsequent off-world battles, this left the skies of Cybertron uncomfortably barren, aside from the occasional Tetrajet zooming by in a blip. Though this consequence of war is nothing short of a tragedy, one that will influence society for generations, it was fortunate for the two representatives, who thought nothing of the barren skies, both having been sparked in ages without the deafening roar of Seekers flying overhead.
In half an Breem, the duo had reached their destination. Where Predaking dropped down with power and vicious strength, as if he was meant to be feared, Metalhawk land with incredible precision and calmness, reverting back into his Primary mode. The two stood in a dull and grimey alleyway, pulling themselves together, before heading around to the front.
The old bar was one of the first buildings to be rebuilt by Team Prime, it was an important location during the early stages of war, one of the few neutral bars that accepted both Autobots and Decepticons, at least until the Autobots turned Iacon into their stronghold. By then the bar was almost an urban legend, with some even making claims of the owner being a Prime, but those legends had faded when the bar was decimated during the Decepticon siege on Iacon, shortly before the Great Exodus.
Metalhawk stared at the Rust-colored building for just a moment, despite the repairs that had been performed on it, the bar still looked like it had come straight out of a war. The neon sign on top advertised the bar for several moments before flickering out. The doors opened up for the duo, and Predaking led his young friend. Despite his smaller stature compared to most of the other Mecha there, Metalhawk had no worries, and stepped with a naive confidence to the nearest bartender.
The bot was clearly a Predacon, no doubt about it, but he was certainly a smaller one. His pale blue and dull yellow frame stood out to the gold Cyberdroid. An odd color palette for a bot with such beastly kibble across his body. Despite his Predaconian nature, the bot, whom Metalhawk would learn was named SkyByte, was a relaxed gentleman, one who clearly had a lot of passion in his work and care for those around him.
As SkyByte passed Metalhawk his cube of mid-grade Energon, the two heard some noise coming from outside the Scourge Of Athenia. At first, he thought nothing of it, after all, this was located in a reasonably busy area of Cybertron, it's not all that surprising to hear some noise from the traffic outside. Then Metalhawk saw a seeker walk inside, he was a brighter blue than SkyByte, with a red face and yellow highlights.
"Um, SkyByte?" He said, getting the bartender's attention.
"Oh, yes, Darkscream, what is it?" The Predacon responded.
"We got a problem. It's Noble," the seeker sighed, "He's back again…" Metalhawk noticed a bit of frustration from both of the employees, and followed them outside, leaving the slightly drunken Predaking on his own.
With a quiet beep from the doors, the trio stepped outside. What they saw was more than anything MetalHawk expected.
A crowd of people gathered around the bar, lending their optics to a purple bot, standing atop one of the tables. So this was the "Noble" that had been causing a fuss. He was a Darksider, a bot of Cyclonus' territory, with purple and black tank kibble covering his frame. To his aides stood "guards", fellow Darksiders that shielded him from the crowds.
The guard to his left was the only one of the two he recognized, a blue grounder with unique "antlers" atop his head. He was a former criminal that had recently been released, Thunderhoof, they said his name was. He had sold out the entire Slaughter City criminal underworld in exchange for freedom, so him being here clearly wasn't a good sign.
"We are alike," Noble shouted. "Darksiders, Seekers, Predacons, Vehicons. We have descended from a mighty Empire. Our predecessors, the Decepticons, fought for their vision of a just society, and yet now we find ourselves back in the same rut of oppression. Any and all surviving Decepticons have been forced to either defect to the Autobots or be punished with imprisonment or exile. And those that succeeded them are treated with the very same degree of hatred and disgust." He spoke with contempt and fury. "We are taught to be ashamed of our history, to allow the Autobot regime to treat us like slag because of the violent actions taken by those before us, thousands of years before our creation. And yet nothing changes for us, every action the High Command takes only hurts us more, reducing our Energon rations ever further, while sending off our citizens to die in their crusades, exploiting the very military might we are demonized for! We must make our words heard to them, and if words do not work, we shall speak to our oppressors through our actions! If we must turn to savage might for them to see us as people, then so be it! Till all are equal!"
Noble's speech roused the mob, sending them into a frenzy. It was then that SkyByte had realized how captivated he had been by Noble's narrative. But still, the crazed activist was disrupting business, and the boss would be furious with him if he didn't run him off. Just then, Predaking stumbled out of the store, slightly drunk on Energon and ready to leave.
"Well then, it looks like your friend is ready to leave, and since I've gotta take care of this fine mess over here, why don't we talk later?" SkyByte asked, "My DataNet profile is SharkSonnets2001. Me, Darkscream, and a few of his friends like to make short films and reviews of old alien movies there. With that, the two went off, but both to question the ideas that they had overheard in those few critical minutes.
That's all for now. I appreciate all reviews, positive and negative, as well as ideas for the future.