Chapter 6-We Meet at Journey's End
It was surprisingly easy for Orion to get an extended leave for himself. His captain, Zeta, had told him that he deserved one after almost getting killed pursuing a terrorist. And that was after he was almost blown to pieces by a proximity bomb.
Orion had said his goodbyes to Jazz and Elita-1 at Iacon's gates. He tried seeing Alpha Trion but the Archivist was gone to someplace that no one, not even Elita-1 knew about. Seeing Elita-1 before his departure was harder than it needed to be after all the drama that went on between them, but she was accepting of his choice to see this through to the end. She had promised not to badger him anymore so long as he promised to stay safe and come back in one piece. It was a promised that he vowed to keep.
Once the gloomy goodbyes were done, Orion walked out the gates to Iacon and transformed, driving away from the city that was his home and into the wilderness, towards a future that-unknown to him-would be sparked by events that change him and the people he cared about forever.
XXXXXXXX
The quickest path to Tarn was through the Orbital Torus States (Altihex, Uraya and Polihex), most specifically Altihex. He spent a day there to rest up before leaving the next morning, leaving Altihex and passing through Kalis, where he passed by the Well of Allsparks. The Well was a massive pit that went deep into Cybertron, presumably reaching Vector Sigma itself.
Here it was believed that the first Cybertronians-the Thirteen Primes-arose from Cybertron's core near the beginning. Orion only spent a few minutes looking at the sight before moving on. He, like most others, thought that the Thirteen were just myths, stories that helped fill the void in their history that was their origins. Though there could be some truth to the myth of the Thirteen, it was often skewed by creation myths such as that of the Guiding Hand.
It was from here that Orion passed the borders that marked the entrance into the Badlands. There were no signs or anything that marked it as official territory, but the Badlands were characterized as having rougher terrain. It was like the civilized territory of his home had given way to the rugged, uneven brutality of the Badlands-alien territory. It was as if the entire region was made from a combination of carbonized metal and onyx. Orion had heard tales that the Badlands were once the site of a great battle in pre-recorded history, that it was the former kingdom of the barbarian king Galvatron. Of course, he had no idea that it was true, but considering that Galvatron was one of Cybertron's most fearsome warlords with a temper to match the hazardous terrain of the Badlands, he didn't deny that it was a fitting occupation for him. He was so enraptured by the morbid scenery that he failed to notice the figures taking aim at him with their weapons until he heard someone shout out.
"Now!"
Orion suddenly found himself under attack by an unknown assailant. Proton missiles were fired from hidden compartments within the canyon walls, and the bottom of the canyon was littered with explosions that blossomed all over the ground. Orion cursed as he swerved to avoid getting blasted to pieces by the missiles. Then the ground behind him exploded as he drove over one particularly faulty patch of land-mines! Soon his vision was filled with flames and his audio receptors were deafened by the sound of explosions booming around him. If he survived this- there was a high chance of him requiring repairs to his audio array later.
He drove through the blossoming exploding canyon and drove as fast as he could towards the only exit, the other entrance to the canyon. He thought he was home free, but then a grey truck appeared and blocked his way. Orion transformed and dug his feet into the ground, skidding along the metal sheets as he also pulled out his blaster and battle axe in the process. Sparks shot from his feet as he came to a stop before the grey truck and immediately got into a battle stance.
The truck also transformed, reconfiguring into a large mech with light grey/silver armor and black highlights along his chest, arms and legs. He was a head taller than Orion, and sported an angular face with small horns on top of his head. In his hand was a long energo-sword that wasn't activated yet, but still emitted an ominous glow along the length of the blade. The weapon looked like it could cleave a Primal Vanguard mech in two in a single swing.
Orion looked around him and saw four other mechs surrounding him. One was dark red and black, another was bright yellow brandishing an axe, a white and blue bot hefting a sniper rifle on his shoulder, and a black mech with two plasma rifles mounted on his shoulders. It didn't take long for Orion to come to the obvious conclusion.
"Bandits." He said. The grey mech before him nodded, with an unsettling smile that showed his teeth.
"Exactly, at least you're aware of your current predicament. So many people always ask what's going on or what are you doing, as if they've never heard about bandits before. Honestly, it's a bit annoying after a while." The grey mech said in a pleasant tone. Orion wondered how could he talk about robbing people at gunpoint as if he was talking about the weather. "Since you know of your dire situation, we require you to relinquish your valuables and/or weapons to us and we will let you go in return."
"And if I don't give them to you?" Orion asked, testing the waters. The other four yahoos looked easy to beat if he was fast enough, but this large bot before him made him feel uneasy.
"It's not a request, bub!" The yellow mech growled. "Hand over the goods or we'll gut ya like a turbo fox!"
"Now, now Drag Strip. There's no need to be hostile yet." The grey mech turned to Orion. "Judging by your clean armor and lack of a smoky stench, I assume you're not from the Badlands and thus, you do not know who we are. Let me take some time out of my precariously busy schedule to inform you who we are then."
He pointed to the white mech. "This is Breakdown. He has an eye for potential pay days and is our resident sniper." He pointed to the black mech. "Wildrider is an expert in the dangerous field of pyrotechnics. He makes great land mines and even better fireworks." Then he motioned to the yellow and purple mech with the bad attitude. "You already know Drag Strip. He has a short temper and you don't want to get on is bad side." Finally, he pointed to the deep red mech with the missile launchers. "And then we have Dead End. He's the one who had built those automated missile launchers that had you on the run back there."
"Remind me to send him a thank you gift for all his hard work." Orion said dryly. The leader continued without pause.
"And I am Motormaster, leader of our little band of outlaws known as the Stunticons." He said passionately. "You may not have heard of us in your cozy little office in Iacon, but that is moot. We are all trained warriors here. All five of us."
Orion skillfully spun his axe around his arm and slammed the pommel into the ground. "So am I. Funny that. So with the pleasantries out of the way, how about we work on beating the slag out of each other now? Because I have somewhere to be, and you're wasting valuable vacation time."
Motormaster narrowed his yellow eyes at the smaller mech. Then he spoke, this time without the pleasant attitude he had seconds before. "Very well."
Faster than Orion could follow, Motormaster swung his sword at him. He barely had enough time to raise his axe to defend himself before he was hit by a blow that felt like getting hit by a bruiser. Unprepared for both Motormaster's speed and strength, Orion was sent flying back a good distance from the Stunticons. He skidded across the ground, digging his axe into the metal earth to slow himself down. That was only one blow, yet he could feel the very metal in his bones still vibrate like a tuning fork.
Motormaster ran after him, once again displaying unnatural speed as he was on Orion in seconds, racing across the ground in long strides that looked more suited for a Thunderhoof than a mechanoid. He swung his sword again, but Orion ducked under what should've been an immediate beheading, feeling the wind race over his back from the sheer strength the sword was swung. He followed up with an upward slash with his axe, the heated blade of the axe leaving a deep, red/orange gash in Motormaster's torso plate.
That made everyone pause. Orion stood ready for the next attack, but saw that the Stunticons were frozen in place, looking at him in shock. It didn't take Orion long to realize that these bandits had never met someone who would fight against them, let alone actually wound a big, strong bot like Motormaster. The grey mech's face went disturbingly blank as he processed what just happened. The calm before-
"HOW DARE YOU!"
-the storm. Orion had no time to react as Motormaster lashed out with a punch that caught him in the chest, sending him up into the air before crashing down on the hard ground. The cop groaned as he tried to get up, but the blow had seriously disrupted his joints and circuits, like he was hit by a sonic vibration weapon. Orion got to his knees and saw Motormaster charge at him like a stampeding bolvine creature, sword raised to cut him down. Orion could only raise his axe and wait for him to come.
"Motormaster!"
The Stunticon leader froze in place, his enraged expression melting into one of worry. Orion got his feet and didn't relax, despite the pain he felt in his midsection. Then he looked up and saw a huge black bird fly towards them. The bird neared the ground and smoothly shifted form into a lithe femme who landed on the ground in a single movement.
"N-Nightshade!" Motormaster stammered.
'Nightshade?' Orion thought. 'As in Nightshade, the legendary Dark Bird?'
The Dark Bird was a renown revolutionary who rejected both the caste system and functionism. She was a terrorist who was very good at her job and had many supporters in the lower and middle castes for her work in fighting the corruption that she saw infecting Cybertron's government. Her abilities were fearsome, and the beast mode her alias was named after was even more so. The fact that the Stunticons knew her by name, meant that they were probably her associates-comrades in arms against the world. Orion realized that he may have gotten himself into trouble by starting a fight with a group who works for her.
Looking at her now, Orion was not afraid to say that she was a beauty. She had a lithe frame that was black with dark shades of grey mixed in along the arms and legs, and glowing power lines ran up her torso and chest. Her wings were spread behind her, showing off a wing span that was almost as tall as him. Her face was narrow, with armor plating that looked a little bit like fixed hair framing her face and a little red gem in the center of her forehead. Her facial features were white, with purple eyes and matching lips that were set in a stiff frown as she regarded Motormaster.
"Nightshade," Motormaster cleared his throat. "What are you doing here?"
"I should be asking you the same question." Nightshade replied. "We have a very important day ahead of us, in case you forgot. Things to do with little time to waste, and yet here you all are galivanting around the Badlands like you're Galvatron! And that goes for the rest of you!"
Orion watched perplexed as the Stunticons, who were acting so confident and serious a moment ago, all looked down at their feet in shame, like a bunch of misbehaving protoforms being scolded by a batch initiator. Nightshade gave them a few more harsh words before sending them off to parts unknown. Motormaster sneaked him a baleful look as he transformed and drove away with the other Stunticons.
"I take it you are not serious harmed?" She asked him once the others were gone.
"No, I am fine. Just a bit shaken." Orion answered.
Nightshade looked him up and down, like he was a weapon she had never seen before. "It's no easy feat to land a hit on Motormaster. He's a powerhouse in his own right with a lot of experience behind him."
"I take it that you know them well?" He asked cautiously. He didn't want to make any more enemies in this land than he wanted to.
"You could say that." Nightshade answered. "We all know each other in some shape or form here in the ass end of Cybertron. Mostly out of necessity, some with a common goal in life. It's more than I can say for the shining towers of Iacon or the halls of Nova Cronum."
Orion decided to ignore that vaguely backhanded remark about his home. He noticed another mech walk up to Nightshade, a blue mech with no facial features whose footsteps were disturbingly silent along the metal ground.
"So what brings an Iaconian all the way out here into bandit territory?" Nightshade asked.
Orion didn't feel right telling these two his personal business, but he knew that not answering would insult the very prideful terrorist. "I'm visiting a friend in Tarn."
"In Tarn?"
"Yes," He nodded. "We've been talking over the DataNet for a few months, and I figured that I should visit him at least once while I have the free time."
"I'm guessing it's your first time going there." She said. At his nod, she continued, "Then a word of advice. Watch your back. Don't talk to anyone, and don't get too close to anyone either. Tarnians don't take kindly to people from outside the Badlands waltzing into their home. And let me tell you, the Stunticons are not the worse things you'll find here."
"I'll keep that in mind." Orion said and tilted his head in a slight bow. "Thank you for your assistance again, but I must be going now."
"By all means, don't let me keep you here."
Orion put his axe away and transformed, driving past Nightshade and the nameless mech and leaving the canyon. Nightshade watched him go, not taking her eyes off him until he was just a spec in the distance.
"Well?" Nightshade glanced at Soundwave.
"He is visiting a friend in Tarn," Soundwave said, relaying what he got from scanning Orion's mind. "Or someone he considers a friend. Megatron."
"I see," Nightshade muttered.
"Shall I have him followed?"
"No. We have more important things to worry about." She said and transformed to beast mode. "Megatron can take care of himself."
They went on their way towards their secret hideout in the Badlands. They had plans of their own today, plans that involved liberating Cybertron from the tyrannical clutches of the Prime and his functionist slaves.
XXXXXXX
Tarn was a completely different city from Iacon. Orion knew that, but he was still taken aback by the aesthetic different between the two cities. The city itself was like one large jigsaw puzzle, with towering buildings that looked uneven and jagged, as if they were made from large scraps leftover from the smelting factories. Highways crisscrossed the space between buildings, with bots of all shapes and sizes racing along the airborne highways.
Orion found Tarn's ground level to be no different. It was crowded, possibly even more so than Iacon. Despite having spent his whole life in a metropolis like this, Orion felt suffocated. Between the overcrowded streets and the hot, thick air pumped out of the refineries, Tarn felt more like a stuffed prison than a large city-state. The sky was grey, even this late at night, and the rain caused by the smog as a result of the dozen refineries and factories was heavy and dense. He could barely see.
It took him a few minutes to get his bearings and enter a side street that was almost empty save for the typical homeless bum sitting on the sidewalk. He knew that it was dangerous to be walking away from the crowd, he could get mugged or jumped for his shanix, but he couldn't take that claustrophobic feeling anymore. It was a bit scary to be honest. Facing something that he couldn't arrest, or fight, was something that he didn't want to think about. Disease and afflictions have that effect on people. Orion wondered if that was what it felt like during the Rust Plague, when mass hysteria arose over the spread of a plague that didn't even hurt as if slowly ate away at the metallic body of a Cybertronian.
"What's wrong with me?" Orion asked himself. "Where did these thoughts come from?"
Perhaps it was the gloomy, dark atmosphere of Tarn that had him thinking these morbid thoughts. For a city like this to have such an effect on him made him even more wary, and he strived to hasten his search for the place Megatron had told him about. Sadly, he made an error in not asking Megatron how to get there, thinking that Tarn would be an easy place to navigate on his own. The folly of mechs.
His pondering, however, was cut short when he heard a song echoing in his receptors. It wasn't a song with words, but a hymn, one that blocked out everything in Orion's senses and drew him forward almost as if he was in a trance. He strained his audio arrays to hear the song over the pounding noise of the downpour that was dousing the city, and it lead him into another alleyway, one that he would've missed if he wasn't paying attention. He went deeper into the city, knowing that it was dangerous to be wondering around like this, but still seeking to know where that song was coming from.
The song led him out the alley and into a small alcove, where a large aqueduct was also located. Water from the runoff in the streets and industrial areas ran through the channels under the city and through the pipes, where it all coalesced into a single artificial river that was dumped into the underground beneath Tarn. The distance was so great that the water spread and dissolved into a fine mist before it even reached the bottom. But Orion's attention was focused on the white figure that was sitting near the channel. He took a step forward, and the singing stopped abruptly, making him pause. The figure stood up and slowly turned towards him, and Orion felt his Spark pulse faster.
She was beautiful, and Orion rarely used that adjective often; snow white with a slender, almost thin frame with rhombus shaped red eyes and red lips that stood out against her silver face. She had long, slender limbs that looked more like those of a beast, and Orion noticed her wings-or rather, her wing. One wing was clearly severed near the joint, a clean cut that left only a little bit of the wing left. So entranced was he that he didn't notice her approaching him until she spoke up.
"Hello." She said.
"Oh. Uh, hello." Orion replied. Smooth moves, Pax.
"You must Orion Pax of Iacon." She said. "Welcome to Tarn. Megatron is waiting for you at the arena."
"Are you a friend of Megatron?" Orion asked.
"Yes. You could say I'm his confidant of sorts. As for how I know you name," She smiled. "Megatron speaks about you a lot. You've had quite the impact on him." The white femme looked up at the rain that was still falling on them in droves. "Let's get out of the rain before you slip into the canal."
"Excuse me," He stopped her before she could leave. "That song. What's the name of it?"
"I don't know. It's just something that I hear in my dreams sometimes, or when I'm alone." She answered. It would ring in my head when something special happens as well. Like us meeting here."
"I see." Orion was friends with Jazz, a bot who worked as a DJ for underground clubs and knew a lot of music from all walks of Cybertronian life, but he never heard something to melancholy before, not even from Harmonex. "May I have your name?"
"Elmeth," She said. "My name if Elmeth."
XXXXXXX
For a moment, Orion wondered if the sun ever shined down on Tarn. The entire city was always shrouded under a thick cloud of smoke and compounds fueled by refinery fires. The deeper Elmeth led him into Tarn, the denser it felt. The roads became tangled with conduits and powerlines, more catwalks bridged the buildings…it was all so confusing and jumbled. A stark contrast to the order of Iacon, where you actually had a sense of space and location.
What was it like for the bots who were Forged within its borders? To be nurtured in this civilized chaos and then thrust into the world where you spent the majority of your life underground, away from the sun?
Elmeth led him to the building Megatron described in his latest transmission. It was south of the court house, in a pit between two smelting pools that could not be seen unless you looked right over the edge. The building itself was a massive black pyramid on top a squared sheet of metal. It used to be a historical monument of some sort, composed of pure onyx and carbonated black steel that was built in honor of someone, whose name was forever lost to the annals of history. Now it was the perfect place to hold annual gladiator tournaments and house black market places that sold illegal drugs, weapons and components. Pretty much a place that would get you a life imprisonment if you were seen operating a joint like this anywhere else. Orion resisted the urge to arrest everyone on sight.
From what he could gather, under the pyramid were thousands of passage ways connected to work shops, materials storage, and refinery pipelines that provided the perfect places for gladiatorial matches. It was once ruled by a large crime syndicate, which was systematically wiped out not too long ago under mysterious circumstances-presumably by some group originating in Tarn or Kaon. The information on the event was scarce, but whoever did it made sure to wipe out even the low level grunts so as to eliminate the chance for retaliation.
There were hundreds of places like this in Tarn, twenty more in Stryx; more yet in various settlements in the Badlands, crisscrossing all the way to the eastern terminus of the Sonic Canyons. Here though, was the heart of the gladiatorial pits. All fighting mechanoids from Tarn's districts to the other Badland cities came here to the big leagues to make their names. Here, Megatron, a jobless mech with no real home to call his own, was forged to become a warrior king in order to support himself and get his ideals across.
They approached the black pyramid from the side entrance, which was guarded by two mechs-one slightly smaller than Orion, black and white with blazing red eyes, and one enormous mech, four times his size and carrying a mace a little taller than Orion. They both froze at the sight of him, but seeing Elmeth with him had calmed them somewhat.
"My lady!" The big one bowed his head to her in reverence. "Welcome back! We have been waiting for you to return!"
The smaller one eyed Orion with a glare. "Who's he?"
"This is Orion Pax. He's a friend of Megatron." Elmeth said. She was sure to let them know immediately not to punk him or risk angering Megatron. "Orion, this is Lugnut and Barricade. They're apart of the security team."
"We're also gladiators to." Barricade added.
'He's threatened by me.' Orion thought. He figured the Barricade didn't want a stranger like him getting friendly with someone as high class as Elmeth and was trying to assert his dominance early on in the conversation.
It seemed that Elmeth also noticed this and put a stop to it at once. "Barricade, could you go get Megatron please?" She asked sweetly.
Barricade glowered at Orion for a moment before nodding. "Sure thing." He glanced at Lugnut, giving a discreet signal to watch Orion, before disappearing into the doorway.
"I'm sorry about Barricade," Elmeth apologized. "He's a bit…iffy when it comes to upper class bots."
"It's okay, I'm not offended." Orion said. 'Honestly I was expecting it from these people.'
Then the very mech he came here to see appeared in the doorway-Megatron. Orion was a bit stunned at how tall Megatron was. He wasn't as tall as Lugnut, but he was a head taller than the Iaconian officer, with gunmetal grey and black around his forelegs. Megatron was bulky and looked like he could take a proton missile head on without suffering severe damage-possibly two if need be. Lugnut bowed again in submission to Megatron, but the gladiator paid him no heed as he walked up to meet Orion.
"Judging from your expression, the cluster of Tarn has overwhelmed you a bit. It certainly had an effect on me when it first came here as well." Megatron said and smiled. "It's good to see you here, friend."
"And you." Orion replied. They clasped hands.
Friend. That was a word he sadly didn't use very much…perhaps only with Jazz, Elita-1 and Dion. Maybe Ratchet from his days in the Iacon University of Science and Technology. Definitely Alpha Trion. But that was it. His circle of friends was small, but it felt good to have someone like Megatron see him as a friend.
After they traded greetings, Megatron and Elmeth led Orion into the pyramid with Barricade following them like an angry shadow. The internal space was crisscrossed with catwalks and girders, and spectator seats lined the floors.
"We hold aerial tournaments here." Megatron said. "I fought here a couple of times. It's not my cup of Ferrum, that's for sure."
"Megatron almost lost an arm while he was trying to ride a Seeker like he was a hoverbike." Elmeth smiled. "I don't know what possessed him to do it, but he was lucky he wasn't a smear on the wall."
"I still won, didn't I?" Megatron asked.
"Yes, but you made Knockout a not so happy camper as a result." She replied. "He had to jump through some big hoops to get you some new components for you arm."
Orion jumped back a bit as a jet flew close to the bridge. "You fight here, in places like this every day?"
Megatron nodded. "Yes. At first it was terrifying, fighting for the first time and not knowing if you'll live to see the next sunrise. But then you live, and after a while you stop being afraid and learn to enjoy the rush fighting gives you. It becomes addictive and hard to resist as you get better and stronger. But this is a double-edged sword though."
"How so?"
"You only get a thrill fighting opponents who give you a challenge. Otherwise, fighting people who are only moderately strong feels like a monotonous chore, a job and nothing else." Megatron continued. "Soon, it gets to the point where you're just hoping for that one opponent who is willing to give you a challenge, to make you feel that spark you had when you first started fighting. Life isn't fun without the challenges it brings. Fighting is no different."
Orion looked at Megatron, noticing how passionate he sounded about all this. "Are you speaking from experience?"
Barricade bristled. "Listen buddy- "
Megatron held up a hand to stop him. "In a sense, yes. I am also like that, at least before I met Elmeth. Fighting may be well and good, but just doing it for the sake of fighting will lead to a short life cycle. Fighting for a cause makes it worthwhile."
"But fighting for a cause might also generate the very friction you're trying to solve." Orion protested. "There are other ways to change the world without violence."
"Sounds like a compromise is in order." Barricade interrupted. "And around here, Pax, compromising means agree with the boss."
"Whoa there," Megatron said. "None of that. Orion is here as a guest, a friend, not a subordinate. He is a friend of our cause."
They locked gazes with each other, and Barricade, of course, was the first to drop. "Understood boss." He said. "No offense meant."
"None taken."
Megatron led the group to the residential area, where the fighters and mechanics lived in crowded barracks until their next matches. Megatron actually lived in a luxurious (for them) penthouse suite at the top of the pyramid, a reward for his long, hard years of reaching the top of the food chain in this underground world of theirs. Once there, Megatron sent Barricade away and allowed Orion entry into his home.
By Iaconian standards, the penthouse was mediocre at best, but here in the slums of Tarn, it was like heaven. There were three rooms in all, with a living area, a bar on the side, and even a terminal for the DataNet. Orion couldn't help but liken it to his own home, though not as large, nor as dirty. He would have loved to have a bar in his apartment though.
"Not bad." Orion said. Elmeth smiled.
"The perks of becoming top dog in the pits." She said. "Trust me, once Megatron falls from grace, it'll be back to shacking with the other warriors."
"But that won't happen for a long time." Megatron pointed out.
Elmeth walked over to the bar and began looking for some bottles of energon. "Is there anything you would like, Orion?"
"Um, just Estriol for me, please." He requested.
"Estriol?" Megatron said in mock surprise. He clapped Orion on the back, almost knocking him over. "A strapping young mech like you? I thought you would've gone for some of the heavier stuff, like Ferrum."
"That's way too heavy for me. I tried that once, and I woke up with three Turbofoxes in my house using it as a nest." Orion said.
"Ha! I see why you have such reservations," Megatron smiled. "But don't be afraid to let go every once in a while. Why, even Elmeth here partakes in the occasional heavy drink now and then."
"Really?" Elmeth didn't look like the type to take in Ferrum energon, not with her build.
"I tried drinking Vitreous once," Elmeth said, sounding a bit shy. "It…didn't end well."
"She went into beast mode and rampaged around the arena roaring and growling," Megatron said. "I think you tore someone's arm off to, but I wasn't there to see that."
"It's not funny!" If she was flesh and blood, Elmeth would be blushing right now. "I could've killed someone."
"No different from a usual day in the Pits." He replied with a shrug. "But there was nothing like seeing giant beast act like a drunken Pneuma Lion to lighten people's spirits."
"Glad you think it's funny." Elmeth grumbled.
Orion looked at them and saw how at ease they were with each other. It reminded him of how he was with Elita-1, always throwing witty quips at each other and generally just enjoying being near one another. He wondered if they were conjux endura yet, or were in the process of becoming one. It was a bit odd to see such a strong bond like theirs hold up in a land where might makes right.
After giving them their energon, Elmeth left Orion and Megatron alone. They stood by the window, looking out at the city in front of them. The undercity, where many bots of the Manual and Labor Castes lived, was even more of a chaotic mess than the city above. There were no skyscrapers here, only lines of houses and apartment buildings that were a patchwork of repurposed sheets of metal and components that were outdated and worn. Here, Tarn's lower caste lived, working from sunrise to sunset, only to do the same thing again and again, with little to no proper treatment from those who governed above them. After taking in the sight, Orion decide to start another conversation.
"So, when you told me that meeting someone had changed your view of the world," Orion said. "I take it that you were talking about Elmeth?"
"Yes. She is a prime example of how backwards and barbaric this caste system-no, the entire concept of functionism is." Megatron said. "I'm sure you've noticed her severed wing?"
"Hard not to." He replied. Such a wound on an otherwise perfect being was hard to ignore. He hoped that Elmeth wasn't offended by his staring.
"It's a reminder from her time living in Praxus," Megatron explained. "Some police officers thought it would be fun to play target practice with her, and she lost her wing to a vibro-blade while fighting back. She already had a hard life as a beast former who had no place in a world where one's alt mode dictated their place in life and in line. Though the officers were clearly the guilty party, they were given a slap on the wrist, while she was exiled for 'disturbing the peace'." He snorted and drank his energon. "It's sickening."
"But she did nothing wrong!"
"Oh, but in their eyes, her just living was a crime in itself. Having an alt mode that provides nothing to the senate's so-called perfect society is essentially a death sentence for her. The caste system allows for violence like this to occur without opposition, because one can just say that they did it all to preserve the status quo. They would say that the Grand Cybertronian Taxonomy saved our lives from extinction, and thus it is our duty to uphold its laws and values, lest we descend into chaos again." Megatron looked at Orion. "That is why I'm having the people of Cybertron wake up to the deception that's been ruling our lives since the Golden Age. So that people like Elmeth would not suffer like she had."
Orion hummed. "How do you propose to do this? You make inspiring an entire population sound like an easy thing to do."
"I'm am doing what others have tried and failed to do-light the spark in the people, and let the flames spread. I'm seeking to convince the people to rebel on their own volition. The senate may be able to silence one or two voices, but if a thousand rise and take a stand, then they will no longer be able to ignore us. They will be forced to listen."
"And if this doesn't work?" Orion asked. "What if your method doesn't work? What if they don't want to wake up and see the world for how it is? What if they want to live a stagnate life where those who are born with the right genes live on top without having to work for it? Will you lead the revolution yourself?"
Megatron was silent for a long time. Orion couldn't tell if his silence was because he had no answer or was just admiring the scenery.
"I am no leader. The people will choose how to go about this their own way, but I will fight with my words and nothing more. However," He looked down at his reflection in his drink. "As for your first question, I honestly don't know. It doesn't give me any pleasant thoughts, though. My cause is just, for my words have inspired many, including you. But…"
"But what?"
"Others do not share my unwillingness to cause violence. I'm sure you've heard about the rash of bombings that have been occurring lately?"
"Of course," Orion huffed. "I had a front row seat to the bombing in Nominus Square."
"Really?" Megatron asked, looking intrigued.
"Yes. The one who did it was an outlier who could phase through solid objects." He explained. "You can guess how that went down. She had a partner who completely thrashed me before they both escaped."
"It's only going to get worse from there. Many citizens from Tarn and Kaon believe that such conflicts cannot be won by talking. Many of those past terrorist attacks, as well as future ones, will be done in my name, spurred on by my words."
"You need to distance yourself from them before they bring the pressure down on you." The cop said without hesitation. "Violence at this stage will only be counterproductive."
"Counterproductive. But not wrong?"
It took Orion a minute to realize that the gladiator was teasing him. "Of course wrong. Megaton, if a bunch of people go around Cybertron destroying things in our name, it will not only tarnish your image but also the cause as well. You'll be written off as radicals."
"I agree," Megatron said, then frowned. "But another way to look at it is that if we truly believe in self-determination and free will, we must respect the right of my followers to disagree with out methods and choose their own. That's the catch."
"There's always a catch." Orion sighed. They both looked out the window at the city once more. "But they might listen to you. You do have a way with words."
"I can stop them no more than you can stop a raging inferno with your bare hands." Megatron sipped his drink. "I only lit the spark. They're spreading the flames."
Nightshade and Soundwave walked through the rough terrain of the Badlands, under the huge shadow of the largest mountain of the Manganese Mountain range. As they approached the mountain, they scanned the area, as they always do, before reaching the foot of the mountain and disappearing through the hologram image that covered the entrance to their secret base.
It was far from cozy, and took almost a month and a half to dig a tunnel through the tough steel roots of the mountain deeper into the ground, where they hollowed out a cave for the placement of their equipment and such. But it has served them well, and now it shall serve them again as the center of their largest operation yet.
"Is everything in order?" Nightshade asked as they descended the tunnel.
"Yes, I have double-checked the schedule and intercepted their transmissions." Soundwave said. "Half of the functionist council is leaving, so the facility is only guarded by a few platoons of Enforcers."
Nightshade snorted. "Those hellspawn maim and kill for their righteous cause, and yet they can't walk around without half an army following their every move. Pathetic."
They reached the end of the tunnel and pushed the cloth flap aside and enter their little abode. It was little more than a cave, one that was lined with high tech monitors and computers. At the center near the back of the cave, was their assembled team; Shadowkat, Blackbeetle, and the Stunticons. Her own personal army-the Sons of Cybertron.
"The time has come my friends," Nightshade said. "The time where we fight back at the tyrants who have made our lives a living hell since birth. Tomorrow, we strike at the heart of the GTC, the Functionist Council itself! For Cybertron!"
"For Cybertron!" The revolutionaries chanted.
And so the opening salvo was fired, and the embers of discord arose from the scorched land.