I hope you enjoy this chapter! This one was a lot harder to write than I thought. I rewrote this chapter three times to get something I'm satisfied with, though I think it could be better. I would appreciate it if you guys let me know what you think! I'll be posting the next chapter whenever I finish it, probably sometime within the next few days.

Orion Pax leaned against the rail of the Observatory of Iacon that housed the grand Solar Telescope. This was his favorite spot to come to, especially when he wanted to think. It was peaceful. Quiet. Serene. It was a space he could allow his processor to wander without having to worry about anything.

The observation deck he was on allowed him to see Iacon in all of its glory. The city was sprawled out before him, washed in the golden glow of the setting sun. The skyline was bathed in the last warm rays of the sun, brilliantly painting the sky in pinks, oranges, and reds that streaked across the sky blending into a deep purple where the first stars began to twinkle.

From up here, he could see the small dots of mechs and the occasional femmes walking through the streets and bridges of the golden city conducting their business, enjoying their lives. His optics drifted upwards to where Trypticon Station was stationed, out of the prying optics of the Cybertronian race, before settling on Protihex to the South.

Orion pulled out his datapad and stylus, turning on the device to begin logging his thoughts for the solar cycle. It was a routine that he had rather grown fond of. Writing his thoughts down helped keep his neural net clear and it made him feel better.

Today had been another dull solar cycle. He had spent long breems in the Hall of Records, sorting data, information and transmissions, cataloguing and recording everything that was directed to him. It was the same routine that he had been doing on a loop for vorns. Jazz did come in looking for some information, brightening his mood.

His gaze wandered away from the screen, drawn once again to the city.

In the distance, the neon lights of Six Lasers Over Cybertron, an amusement park reserved for the high castes, flickered into life as the sun dipped beneath the horizon. The bright and colorful lights were almost mesmerizing, swirling in a kaleidoscope of colors, reflecting off the towers surrounding it. Orion could just barely make out the silhouette of a massive Ferris wheel turning slowly in the distance.

I would like to go there, Orion thought wistfully.

He had heard stories of the incredible sights, the energon treats and the exhilarating rides that soared above the city. He wanted to feel that same thrill and joy they did, to be free even for a klik from his responsibilities and the expectations of his caste.

But he couldn't.

Not because he didn't deserve it, but because of a system that told him he didn't belong. His caste, the construction workers, the civil engineers, data specialists, cultural investigators and programmers were not welcome in places like Six Lasers.

The thought made his spark twist. Why shouldn't he go? Was he not a citizen of Cybertron? Didn't he contribute to society just as much as the higher castes?

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that places like Six Lasers Over Cybertron were reserved for those who already had everything. It wasn't fair that mechs like him, who worked tirelessly to preserve the history of Cybertron, were denied access to a place like that simply because they weren't born into the right frame.

Why did it have to be like this? He had worked hard his whole life, followed the rules, and done everything expected of him. And yet, there were still walls he couldn't climb, doors that would never open for him, simply because of where he came from.

"Why are they allowed to choose for us? We as individuals know what is best for us, do we not? We should choose what we want, not others!"

Megatronus' words rang in his processor, and there was undoubtedly truth in them. But…

If everyone started to choose what they wanted, would there not be chaos? If anybot decided they wanted to go to Six Lasers when they felt like it, then the park would become too crowded and overwhelmed. It wasn't practical just to let anyone inside.

That's what structure was for, what the caste system was for. It was to maintain order, but Orion found himself disagreeing. Yes, their system offered order, but it was wrong on so many levels. The system judged one based on their alt mode, and that said bot would stay in that place for the rest of their life.

There was no room for someone to be who they wanted to be—it was stifling order that was slowly, but surely killing Cybertron.

"Freedom is the right of all Cybertronians!"

The archivist vented softly, staring down at his datapad. According to the system, he was a data clerk and nothing more. He would not go out into space and explore; he would not engineer something revolutionary. He would not go and learn to be a medic, to save others' lives.

No, a Cybertronian like Orion would simply sort and assess data. It was all he was good for in the Functionist's optics. But he didn't believe that. He believed that they could be more, if they were only given the chance.

The red and blue mech wished Megatronus were here with him. His brother would've thrown some sarcastic remark his way by now, maybe teasing him about thinking too much. Megatronus had a way of stirring him out of his thoughts, of bringing fire into his dull routine.

The archivist felt a familiar warmth flood his systems as he thought of his friend, a warmth that his vents were quick to flush out, cycling fresh, cool air onto his circuitry. His thoughts drifted to the first time he met his brother.

It had all started with their messages. Since he had been forged and been assigned to his caste, he had been studying Cybertron's history, fascinated by its past. As time passed, he grew concerned about the corruption spreading throughout Cybertron and had been inspired by a gladiator who stood up against the caste system.

When he first learned of Megatronus, the fierce gladiator who defied the Functionists, he had been captivated. How could someone from a background like his rise up to challenge the oppressive system of their world? Orion had sent his first message to the Champion out of curiosity, but it had quickly blossomed into a series of exchanges that deepened into something far more meaningful.

Jazz had been the first to suggest meeting up Megatronus physically. "You two are practically speaking the same language," he had said, nudging him with a knowing look. Orion had been nervous at first, refusing to go meet him. That didn't stop him from listening to the gladiator's speeches that would be directed to him for recording in the Hall's files.

His visits to the observatory became more frequent, his helm filled with thoughts and ideas and conversations that needed to be expressed with a like-minded bot. That was when he realized he needed a conversation that didn't happen inside in his helm. That's when he took Jazz's advice.

He could still remember how nervous he was for their first meeting. The arena was intimidating to him. The colosseum was massive and loomed over him, not to mention that fact that it was illegal. Before then, Orion had never broken the law.

As he made his way to the entrance, he had never felt more out of place and small, his spark hammering in his chassis. And then, there he was.

Orion remembered vividly how he had met Megatronus for the first time. The towering figure of the gladiator had been more imposing up close—broad, powerful and tall, very tall. But when Megatronus had spoken, his voice was not what he had expected. It had been warm and friendly.

"So you're the one who's been sending me all those messages," Megatronus had said with a grin, "I was wondering when we'd finally meet."

Orion had been flustered, unsure of what to say, but the gladiator had immediately put him at ease by showing him around the arena. They had shared so much in that short time, bonding quickly over their shared vision for a better Cybertron.

The data clerk had been so used to being careful with his words, because bad things happened to bots who spoke out of line, but something about Megatronus had made him feel like he could speak freely and truly be himself.

Orion stared out at Iacon now, smiling faintly at the memory. He couldn't wait to meet up with Megatronus again to discuss their next moves. Their rallies in Kaon, Tarn, Blaster City and Slaughter City had been drawing more and more attention from the masses. And it wasn't just the low castes anymore—more and more mechs from different walks of life were beginning to listen.

They were so close to implementing their plan. If they could just make enough noise to get the higher ups to listen, just get the High Council to take them seriously, they could change Cybertron. They could make the world fairer for everyone, not just the privileged few.

That was why their next move, the next rally was going to be the biggest, and possibly most foolish thing they had ever done in the last stellar cycle. But in his optics, it was worth it. Their movement had become something far greater than he had imagined.

Orion liked to think of their followers as autonomous robots, bots who wanted to think for themselves and make their own choices. Autobots. The name had come to him one night while he was writing on his datapad, composing their next speech. He hadn't shared the name with Megatronus yet, though he planned on doing so one of these solar cycles.

The mech's smile faded slightly as his thoughts turned darker. There was another movement rising now—one that troubled him. The Decepticons. They were smaller than his and Megatronus' following, but they were growing quickly. They hadn't done much beyond public protests so far, but the way they spoke worried him. They wanted to tear down the old systems entirely, destroy the Council and Sentinel Prime, whom they called a 'false Prime.'

What troubled him most, however, were the rumors. The Decepticons claimed to be led by Megatronus.

Orion had confronted his friend about it not long ago, asking if there was any truth to the claims. He had felt uneasy even bringing it up, not wanting to doubt his friend, but the rumors had been troublesome enough that he couldn't ignore them.

Megatronus had laughed when Orion brought it up. "You know where I stand, Orion," he had said, somewhat assuring, "I'm fighting for change, not destruction."

Orion had wanted to believe him. He did believe him. But there was still a lingering doubt that gnawed at the back of his processor. The Decepticons were rising, and their ideals were spreading fast—too fast. If they ever crossed a line, it could undermine everything he and Megatronus had worked for.

For now, though, the data clerk tried to push those concerns aside. He trusted Megatronus. They were working toward the same goal, toward a better Cybertron. He just had to believe that everything would turn out for the best.

Alpha Trion sat quietly in his study, listening to the latest transmission from the gladiator, Megatronus.

"We were all forged from the same living metal! Given life by the same Allspark! Yet we are told that we're different because of our alt-modes!"

The gladiator was growing bolder with every solar cycle that passed, and his following was increasing exponentially. Kaon had become their center of operations, and soon, they would rise up against the system. Alpha Trion feared for Cybertron, knowing that the consequences of this gladiator's uprising would be devastating when it inevitably turned violent.

"Our place is decided by those who sit in high towers, far removed from the realities of our lives. I ask you now—who decides this? Who gave them the power to determine our value?"

Alpha Trion agreed with the gladiator to a certain degree. He had been there when Sentinel Prime had re-established the caste system shortly after the Quintesson Uprising, after the Rust Plague had nearly destroyed Cybertron.

Needing energon and stability to quickly rebuild their home planet, many Cybertronians had agreed with Sentinel to have the old system reinforced. They had claimed that it would be temporary, yet to this very solar cycle, it was still in place.

"We will not be silenced! We will—"

The Master Archivist shut off the transmission, rubbing his faceplate. Megatronus.

How that name stirred memories that he had long thought were buried in the sands of time. It had been so long since Alpha Trion had walked among the Thirteen, helping them defeat Unicron and planting the seed that would turn Cybertron into the civilization it was today.

There had been a time when the Thirteen were united. But after their battle with Unicron, unbeknownst to them at the time, seeds of darkness had been planted in each of them. Over time, their paths diverged, and Alpha Trion watched as they fell one by one.

The last of which was Megatronus, who had succumbed to the darkness of his own spark by murdering Solus Prime. Although Alpha Trion believed it was an accident, remembering how remorseful Megatronus had been, what was left of the Thirteen disagreed.

The Megatronus of old reminded him too much of what he saw in the Megatronus of the present.

The ancient bot vented heavily, looking down at the data package that his young protégé had compiled for him about the gladiator. It was all the transmissions that Megatronus had sent over the many megacycles to Cybertron. Many of these messages had been shut down before they could become widespread, though Alpha Trion doubted it would remain that way for long.

Megatronus would have help in the form of Orion, who was just as passionate about the corruption of their home world as the gladiator was. The former miner was working with his charge to bring change to Cybertron—to bring it back to its former glory, to its Golden Age.

The ancient mech would like to see Cybertron back to its full glory. It was something that he had desired for vorns, since the beginning when the system had been reinstalled—when Cybertron had first, slowly and subtly, started to degrade.

Alpha Trion picked up at the datapad and scrolled through its contents, though his processor was elsewhere. His thoughts were on his young protégé.

Orion was special.

The Master Archivist had seen it in him from the very first klik they met. There was a light in the young bot's optics, a determination, a purity of spirit that was rare in these troubled times. He had an innate sense of justice, of compassion, and a deep-rooted desire for peace and understanding. These were the traits that had compelled him to take the young archivist under his wing.

Alpha Trion didn't just see a young, promising student—he saw a mech worthy of being a Prime. He saw the potential, the spark of leadership, and the strength that would be needed for these troubling times, should Megatronus's movement go violent—which he knew would happen from what little information of the future he could decipher from the Covenant of Primus.

Megatronus had begun to stray from the path of balance and peace, and Alpha Trion feared for the future. He was well aware that the former miner had been searching for an ancient artifact—the Matrix of Leadership—but for what purpose he did not know. He could only make assumptions.

The Master Archivist doubted that Megatronus was aware that the Matrix would only present itself to one who was worthy. Though, the ancient artifact had not been seen for millennia. It had long disappeared after Prima's death, seeing that Sentinel Prime had been an unworthy successor.

The ancient mech knew that Orion Pax would one solar cycle come to wield the Matrix of Leadership—he was one of the few that would ever be worthy—a mantle that Alpha Trion knew would weigh heavily on him. But how could one prepare for such a destiny?

Alpha Trion vented softly. He had watched over Cybertron since its earliest solar cycles and yet, even with all his wisdom, he struggled to find what he could do in these darkening times. He did not desire for his home world to be torn apart by violence. Especially by these Decepticons that were proclaiming a desire to tear down the old guard.

The Archivist shook off the trail of his darkening thoughts. Orion Pax was destined for greatness, whether he realized it or not. Alpha Trion had seen it time and time again in their conversations, in the way Orion spoke with such conviction about the changes—peaceful reforms—he wished to see in Cybertron.

There was still much to teach him, much to prepare him for. Alpha Trion would guide him as best he could, offering the wisdom he had gained over the eons. But he knew that ultimately, Orion's path was his own to walk.

For now, he would continue to watch over Orion Pax, guiding him as best he could toward the destiny that awaited him.

For the future of Cybertron rested in his servos.