V

To Orion, this felt somehow wrong. Walking to work with Ratchet on his heels almost felt like they were sneaking into the National Energon Storage to steal a lifetime supply. This was just him going to work with a friend. It shouldn't be this stressful. Orion sighed deeply, entering the Hall of Records, making sure to hold the door open for Ratchet. The bot at the desk perked, seeing Orion shut the door gently behind Ratchet.

"Orion, who's this?" gasped the bot. "Unauthorized personel…"

"He's my…doctor," sighed Orion, placing one hand on the desk. "He's just here to monitor me for today."

"Are you sick, Orion?" mumbled the clerk.

"Just a little under the weather," shrugged Orion, stepping into the back.

Ratchet waited a moment until the clerk lowered his head and motioned Ratchet in. The medic chased after Orion, making sure to shut the door behind him. Turning back around, he stood in awe of the large shelves and storage containers. Orion sat at his desk, checking over the list he was given for today's shipment of artifacts.

"You work with all this…" gaped Ratchet.

"Yes, which doesn't make your job much easier, does it?" grumbled Orion, getting to his feet. "I ship tons of stuff to and from the High Council. The Matrix might not even be in here."

"Do you know where the Forge is or other Prime artifacts?" commented Ratchet.

"Row Omega, section Sigma, level 28," recited Orion.

"You're good at this," grinned Ratchet, reading the sign on the shelves and running off.

"You realize I do have to actually do my job too, right!" called Orion.

Orion sighed, rechecking the list he had been given. Most of the stuff today was weapons by the look of things. It worried him, because it wasn't just weapons coming in, there were some going out. He gulped, looking up to find the first artifact to get from the shelf. He could hear Ratchet even so often, commenting on the objects he had found, overall just getting distracted. At one point, they crossed paths, to which Ratchet asked where the Forge was again. Sending him off, Orion finished his work soon after.

"Ratchet?" mumbled Orion, coming up behind the medic. "Find anything?"

"The Forge, Star Saber, Spark extractor," he shivered, "Everything spooky and Prime related but no Matrix."

"Perhaps a member on the council has it," suggested Orion.

"That won't do us much good," grumbled Ratchet. "We needed that or at least it was a step."

"I'm not familiar with anyone on the council, Ratchet. How do we even ask?" whimpered Orion.

"I'm sure we'll figure something out," sighed Ratchet. "Maybe I'll double check some of the nearby shelves."

"Orion!"

"That's the clerk, isn't it," hummed Ratchet. "You should probably check it out."

"It's probably just a late shipment," nodded Orion, walking off.

He stepped out of the main hall, entering the entrance lobby. The clerk stood with a forced smile upon his faceplate, motioning toward the bot in the doorway. He was tall, slender, colored in a dark purple and light grey. It was hard to tell expression through the mask, but as soon as Orion shut the door, the bot's optics shifted toward him.

"You Orion?" the bot hummed, holding out a hand.

"Yes," mumbled Orion, shaking the extended hand. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm with the Council," chuckled the bot. "You were…present when Megatronus was arrested, right?"

"Yes, sir," replied Orion. "Am I under arrest?"

"By no means. The Council was curious, though, about your connect with this Megatronus. We understand you've been visiting him and we just want to make sure you aren't carrying on his work."

"Megatronus was a agitator," answered Orion. "I just want to stay safe…"

"Good boy," nodded the Councilman, placing a hand on Orion's shoulder. "It's a shame when good bots follow the wrong bots. I think I speak for the whole Council when I say I would hate to lose an asset such as yourself."

Orion simply nodded.

"With that in mind, we ask that you stop communication with Megatronus."

"What?" gasped Orion. "But he's an old friend. An agitator he may be, but I can't just abandon him!"

The Councilman's optics narrowed. "You are truly a loyal sorts. Rare these days. Megatronus is undergoing…special treatment, courtesy of the Council. We hope to get him to see reason."

"I see," mumbled Orion, lowering his head.

"He'll get better, soon," promised the Councilman.

"Sir," whispered Orion, lifting his head slightly. "I've worked here a while…and I do enjoy stories of Cybertron history and I was just curious…Do we have the Matrix of Leadership in storage?"

The Councilman cringed, removing his hand from Orion's shoulder and turning away.

"No…it is with Primus," replied the Councilman. "When none was worth, Primus reclaimed his gift."

"I see," sighed Orion.

"Don't believe in those legends, Orion," instructed the Councilman. "Legends such as the Matrix granting light will only bring you false hope."

With that the Councilman left. Ratchet stepped out, coming up behind Orion. The clerk lowered his head again with a deep sigh. Orion turned to Ratchet.

"Nothing," the medic grumbled. "What'd I miss?"

"A Councilman visited. He told me…to stop visiting my friend," sighed Orion. "And that the Matrix isn't here. It was reclaimed by Primus."

"Great!" snapped Ratchet, throwing his hands behind his head. "There goes that plan!"

Orion felt the stinging pain of the headache. He groaned, feeling it bloom into an explosive amount of pain rather quickly. Without warn, in a blink of the optics, Orion's environment changed. He groaned, looking around him. Destruction, broken buildings. Ratchet wasn't beside him this time but he still heard the faintest voice of someone calling Optimus again.

"Who's there?" called Orion, thinking himself crazy enough to try.

A blue bot swung around the side of a building, waving in reply. A femme, she moved quickly down, heading his way. Orion stepped forward, walking toward her. She grinned at his approach.

"Optimus, we were worried!"

"I'm…" Orion gasped.

Suddenly there was a blinding light and swift tug. Orion felt his head hit the pavement, knocking him back into reality. Horns were blaring as he looked around. He was just outside the Hall of Records, or more accurately across the street from it. Traffic had slowed down, optics looking wearily over at him. Gently turning his head over, Orion noticed that Ratchet was beside him, holding onto Orion's side. By the look on Ratchet's face, Orion had done something new this time.

"Did you black out again!?" panted Ratchet.

"What happened?" gasped Orion, sitting up.

"We can add…sleeping walking to the list," sighed Ratchet, sitting up slowly. "We walked into traffic. Nearly got hit…"

"I did what?" mumbled Orion.

"What were you doing in the vision? Were you walking there?" questioned Ratchet.

"Walking…talking to someone," replied Orion.

"You had a conversation!" gasped Ratchet, leaning in. "With who? What about?"

"Someone was calling Optimus again. I called out to see who was there," sighed Orion. "I think you were right…"

"About?" perked Ratchet.

"Me being a Prime," Orion nodded. "They called me Optimus."

"A name change," whispered Ratchet. "Usually attributed to one becoming a Prime."

"So in this other world, I'm a Prime," mumbled Orion, shaking his head. "What is going on in that world?"