Well, I'm back. This story has been eating my brain and I have a double update for ya'll, the second chapter of which will be posted tomorrow. That being said, the next chapter is the second to last, so this story is almost finished.

In keeping with my penchant for rewriting Cybertronian history I have decided to reassign some of the major building locations of Iacon. Spacially they stay the same, but the purposes will be reworked. Because, honestly, there are like fifteen buildings in the major government area of central Iacon and nine or so of them are for the purpose of providing a place for the coucil to meet. I don't think they need that many so I have made changes. The only buildings that are going to belong to council are the Chamber of the Ancients and the leftmost Celestial Spire that holds the council chamber. All the others will be reassigned according to my whims. Accordingly, since the Autobots don't technically exist yet, neither does the Decagon building, which is the Autobot base in Iacon, so I repurposed it into the Prime's Palace temporarily... trust me it will make more sense in the story.

I am also using another measuring alternative to the whole megainch, megamile ridiculousness. The measurements I will be using with regularity in these fics are: Stadia - 1000meters (a cybertronian mile); Khet - 10meters (a cybertronian foot); Doron - 1meter (a cybertronian inch). These are actually ancient earth measuring units that I have stolen the names of and all of them can be found on Wikipedia.

Enjoy, rate, review, and point out mistakes!

Chapter 6:

The nervous Praxian steeled his quaking spark as he pressed the chime for the technodragon's lair. The door slid open silently, like the maw of a great beast. Inside the den sat the master of his spark's fear.

"Come in!" rang out the Primes voice cheerily. It was nearly too cheerful, which made it suspect.

Prowl stepped inside warily, subconsciously tucking his doorwings down, and bowed to the Prime. "My Lord, I would like to present the finalized renovation plans for your approval."

When the Prime frowned the Praxian immediately froze, fearing that he had erred and raised his Lord's ire.

"What is wrong with the current configuration of my quarters?" the Prime asked.

Prowl took a silent in-vent and prayed for the strength to make it through this. "Sir, the DecagonPalace's décor is a direct reflection of the Prime's character. The rooms currently exhibit that of Sentinel Prime and his aesthetic fits your image poorly. It would not be in good taste to host any of the various affairs of state or gala events in chambers that clash with yourself so glaringly."

Optimus Prime blinked in obvious surprise. "I am supposed to live in the palace? I thought it was only used for ceremonies. Especially considering that the suite that I possess here at Central Hall is more than sufficient."

"I am sorry sir, but the suite is for emergencies only. The only reason you were housed here in the first place was due to the chaos of the assassinations spreading our security forces too thin to adequately protect you at the palace." answered Prowl bravely.

"So, I am supposed to live there… by myself?"

The Prime still appeared upset and Prowl tried his best to assuage him. "Of course not sir, your servants and chassisguards will be with you."

The former dockworker sat there for a moment in, for Prowl, uncomfortable silence, then motioned for the plans. The uneasy doorwinger servoed them off quickly and struggled not to fidget as the Lord Prime perused the schematics thoroughly. After what felt like an eternity, the red and blue mech selected one datapad and discarded the others. He leaned forward to give it back to Prowl, saying as he did so, "I like this one, but I desire a few nonnegotiable changes."

The Praxian nodded his acquiescence and took a stylus from subspace to make notations on the accepted proposal.

"First, no one will be either viewing or using the private quarters except for myself, therefore all the proposed décor can be stricken from the design, especially since I have enough mementos of my own to fill the empty spaces adequately. I like the neutral color and simplistic accents they chose for the walls, so that shall remain. Second, while I understand the need to put forth a good impression with the arrangement of the ballroom and formal dining room, these plans are all too flamboyant and border upon decadence. Have the designers alter my selection to reflect simple, muted elegance instead. That will allow the rooms to enhance and compliment the natural splendor of those who will be entertained within. Lastly, there are one hundred and thirty guest suites in the Decagon and I want you to fill all but twenty-five of them with the highest ranking officers currently serving in the Central Hall Command Headquarters. I would feel guilty living in such a mansion whilst my officers are forced to make due with cramped bunkhouses."

Prowl's stylus faltered at the last stipulation and he felt his mouth fall open slightly. "Sir, that is… the council will never… those rooms are for guests of the state!"

Optimus Prime's gaze turned steely and the doorwinger froze, knowing that he had overstepped his boundaries in his shock and fearing the coming punishment. However, the Prime did not reprimand him for speaking out. Instead, in a quiet, yet authoritative, tone he said. "According to the laws of Cybertron, the Decagon Palace belongs to the Prime, who is the Supreme Authority of the planet. The council's place is to represent the citystates of Cybertron to the Prime that he might be well-informed of the status of his people. Therefore as Supreme Authority, I have decided to allot the rarely-used extra rooms of my palace to my subordinates, who are most worthy of having comfortable places in which to recharge."

Prowl bowed his helm and prepared to make a statement of penitence, however, the Prime was not yet finished. "Furthermore, if any of the councilors or senators give you flak for this assignment I want you to immediately redirect them to me."

Then Optimus Prime's tone softened and his optics gentled, which was wholly unnerving to the Praxian. "You are a good mech Prowl, and you should not have to carry the burden of this command alone. Trust in my decisions, and I will do my best to be worthy of your loyalty."

Prowl's helm was starting to hurt. Optimus Prime was behaving illogically. Primes were cruel, overbearing sadists who functioned as the council's enforcer. Sentinel Prime had been the ultimate example of this, as had his predecessor, which Prowl knew as he had been a youngling during Nova Prime's reign. The Primes before them had little reliable documentation so the doorwinger could only infer from his experience with past two that the lineage of the Primes was a corrupt legacy of self-serving tyrants hidden by an external veneer of false benevolence. Prowl's battlecomputer had run the numbers and submitted a probability of 97% accuracy of the analysis given the current set of available information.

Optimus Prime was not acting true to the pattern; he was being kind, thoughtful, and even generous. Prowl could not come up with a logical reason for 'why' and it was making his logic circuits spit static. The conflicting data swirled around the poor SIC's meta in an unending loop. He managed just enough coherency to affirm his commander's requests and receive permission to be dismissed. It was only the Praxian's rigid control of his frame that allowed him to hide his impending crash as he made to quit the Prime's office and retreat to his sanctuary where he could, hopefully, muddle through his confusion without shutting down.

His hopes were not to be however, as the Prime caught his attention with one last parting comment. "Oh, and Prowl? I want you to take first pick of the available suites. You deserve reparation for all the ills done against you and I intend this to be the start."

Prowl's processor gave a small *Fizz-Pop* as he crashed to the ground in the blissful embrace of illogic-free oblivion.

-|-/\^/\-|-

REBOOT-

INITIALIZING-

PROCESSORS – INITIALIZED

Prowl felt his meta come online, but he could not recall having gone into recharge.

HUD – ONLINE

BEGIN CRASH ANALYSIS-

Well that explained why he had not entered recharge, but he could not recall anything that would have made him crash.

BATTLECOMPUTER – 100%

DATA PROCESSOR – 100%

MOTOR CONTROL – medical override

Great, he was in Medical. Drillbit was going to give him pit for crashing again.

EMOTIONCENTER – self reduction, current level 25%

LOGICCENTER – temporarily offline

Neither of those were surprising. Prowl had reduced his emotional expression early into his stint as Second-in-Command just to cope with Sentinel. The logic center was a typical side-effect of a crash and would reset over the course of his reboot.

MEMORY CORE-

LONG TERM MEMORY – 100%

SHORT TERM MEMORY – 83% functional, corruption found

INITIALIZING RESTORATIVE DIAGNOSTIC-

MEMORY RESTORED-

And Prowl remembered, at least this time he would not crash over it, but it was still confusing. The Praxian carefully activated his optics on low, knowing that the bright lights of the medbay would blind him otherwise.

He nearly yelped when he saw a helm less than a doron from his own, but the twitch of his doorwings was enough to give away his surprise if one were attentive. The other mech had been paying close attention and moved back at the sign that the patient was indeed awake. As their proximity decreased Prowl could see that it was Socket, the Prime's personal medic and base CMO. The doctor had been fiddling with some wires in his chest and this filled the Praxian with apprehension. Socket was a simpering aft-kisser who followed behind the Prime licking his leader's peds. However, he was also a hard-core somnophiliac who often took out his urges on his patients. Socket would have been removed from his post and jailed centivorn ago if he had not had Sentinel Prime's approval and protection.

It was for this reason that most of Command had developed a rather high pain tolerance, for it was better to endure the excruciation of surgery without anesthesia than come out of medical stasis knowing that perverse pleasures had been derived from your unconscious chassis. Also, when it came time for the vornly physicals the majority made sure to only come in when Drillbit, the secondary medic, was on duty.

Prowl ran a swift diagnostic and to his relief it appeared that he had regained consciousness before the psycho medic could do anything to him. Socket looked disgruntled at having been interrupted but let the SIC go with a clean bill of health. He also servoed the doorwinger a datapad the Prime had left for him on his way out the doors.

It was an apology.

~Prowl, I am so very sorry for causing you to crash. I was unaware of the delicate balance of your logic processor and I extend my deepest remorse for any pain the lock-up might have caused you.

If you should need any help in assigning the quarters I would be more than pleased to render aid. Also, I was serious about taking full responsibility for any backlash that might occur and if anyone, ANYONE, gives you trouble over my decision I will take care of them PERSONALLY.

Sincerely,

Optimus Prime ~

Prowl almost stumbled into the wall in shock. Sentinel Prime had never apologized to him, ever, and for Optimus Prime to do so was unprecedented. It was confusing. Why was the new Prime not behaving true to form? This had to be some sort of ploy to lull him into a false sense of security so he would rescind his resignation. Prowl would not fall for it, of this he was determined.

-|-/\^/\-|-

The Matrix had been silent all orn. Optimus knew by this point that this meant it had something it wanted to say, but was unsure how to phrase it. From what he could sense from the Artifact he also knew the subject was a sensitive one best broached in a more private setting than his office. So, the very nanoklik that his shift ended he left for his quarters. At least he could still call them his for the moment, the council would not insist he move to the Palace until the renovations were finished which would not be for at least seven more orn.

Optimus entered his suite and walked over the Meditation Chamber. He had made good on his threat and turned it into his berthchamber. The fact that it more resembled a cushion explosion was irrelevant. He had covered the entire floor in plush pillows over a set of thick berth padding then draped warming and cooling blankets strategically throughout the room. Optimus was normally not one to indulge in extravagance in anything, however, the materials had already been present when he moved in and he had fantasized about such luxury for his berth since his sparklinghood. The old berthroom was now retrofitted into a personal library and the Iaconian had delighted in finally being able to unpack his bookfiles.

The young Prime settled his frame onto the glorious softness and for a moment he just rested in complete comfort. Then he mentally tapped at the Matrix.

No reply.

He nudged it again. He got a distracted wave-off.

Optimus waited patiently for half a joor and when he still did not receive an acknowledgement he focused inward pointedly. *What is it you struggle to tell me?*

Hmm?... Oh,… not ready yet. Came the absentmetaed reply.

*What could be so terrible that you are worried to tell me? And why are you hesitating? It is not like you have not already blindsided me with Sentinel Priima's memories.*

He felt the Great Artifact's attention come to fully focus upon him. I am not worried. I am compiling the necessary memories for external extraction.

Optimus sent it a wordless pulse of 'huh?' and it replied with an optic roll full of long-suffering affection. Hold on a few more kliks my Primeling.

The Iaconian spent the time reviewing his plan to restore Prowl and fine-tuning a few of its aspects. As promised, the Matrix finished its tasks just under ten kliks later. Now then, my dear Optimus we have some unpleasant things to discuss. First however, we need to consider your success with Prowl and how to continue it.

*Success?!* Optimus replied incredulously. *I have not had any! He has avoided me like the rust for the past two orns!*

He did that before…

*Not like this. Now he sends his successor candidate to deliver all datapads and every meeting we mutually attend he avoids either looking at or speaking to me!*

This is true, however, I can sense his spark and there is definite improvement from before. He is suspicious, but a tiny grain of hope is starting to grow in his spark.

*You are sure?*

Yes.

Optimus vented. *Alright then. So, what unpleasant items need broaching now?*

Well, now that you have begun the healing process for all the victims it is time to remove the left-over tormentors.

*There were more than just Sentinel?!* the young Prime's justice-driven outrage was almost palpable.

Sadly, yes. Sentinel Priima gathered many like-processored individuals into the command structure to make himself feel better about his own actions.

*How many?* the Iaconian's mood had become dark and menacing and the causes of it would soon regret their choices in functioning.

It was the Matrix's turn ex-vent, for it knew the black depths this would send its Prime to after it revealed the identities of the evildoers. The current High Command boasts over four hundred senior officers, junior officers, and aides. Of that number, two hundred and six members are corrupt and of those, thirty-seven are senior officer. Sentinel was paranoid and acquired a significant amount of evidence that he could present against hem should any of them turn on him.

*Show me.*

The Matrix complied.

kkcliffy: I am glad it made you smile. I love to make my readers happy and it always makes me smile when I do, so thanks. And about the 'evil Primes', yeah, I could not stand the idea of them being real Primes because that just seemed so wrong given that the Matrix is supposed to be so pure. So, I created a bit of fix-fic for that personal issue/umbrage.

Vigatus: thank you!

SomeoneI'mSure: Thanks, I've really been trying to show him as true to character as I can given his current age. I use the character design that his G1 voice actor, Peter Cullen, created when voicing him for the cartoon. Mr. Cullen orginally tried out for OP's voice using the advice of his brother, Larry, who told him, "Peter, don't be a Hollywood hero, be a real hero. Real heroes don't yell and act tough; they are tough enough to be gentle, so control yourself." Mr. Cullen based the voice of the Autobot leader on his older brother Larry, who served in Vietnam. "When he came home, I could see a change. He was quieter and he was a man and a hero to me." I found this to help me keep Optimus in character and it has been very inspirational. And the boring bits? Yeah, I couldn't even picture them, much less write them, they were so boring. Also, for Prowl you are just going to have to wait and see (author looks around mischievously).

Lair of the Twisted Muses: Thank you, I wanted something that sounded close enough to the canon that my changes would be almost unnoticeable. The Matrix that lives in my head has always sounded like this, so thanks, and I have never been able to picture it as the impersonal-device-that-responds-to-any-user or the, as you said, dickish sadist.

Huge, great big thanks to all my reviewers and readers!

Note: there will be no updates during the month of November as I am participating in NaNoWriMo and will not have the time for my fanfics. Thanks for your patience in advance.