The cortical psychic patch was a replacement for mnemosurgery in Shockwave's optics. It was a procedure in which the mind of one Cybertronian was joined with another, using a cable connected directly linked between two processors.

It was a read-only arrangement and would sustain minimal damage to the subject. However, he was still perfecting it, as the last subject's processor had been completely fried from the procedure. Shockwave had started to work on it because he despised mnemosurgery, and Megatron shared his disdain for it. Their experiences had been... enlightening.

It a shame that the arena boss's spark had been extinguished before he could attempt it on him. Megatron had not taken it well when the overseer started demanding he throw a match, and that had clearly sealed the mech's fate.

Though indifferent to the arena boss's demise, the scientist found the development useful. With the overseer out of the way, the path was clear. There would be no more interference, no more restrictions on his research. Now, all he needed was Megatronus' permission to begin his studies on C-14.

C-14 was no ordinary Cybertronian. There was something that captured Shockwave's curiosity from the klik the miner had crossed his path. The strange energy signatures, the anomalies in his scans, it all pointed to something that he wished to uncover. And now, with the gladiator leading the largest energon mine rebellion in Cybertronian history, his desire to dissect and analyze him had only grown.

A soft hiss announced the opening of the medbay doors, interrupting Shockwave's thoughts. Megatron entered, fresh from his most recent fight, victorious as always, though his armor bore the signs of battle—scuffs, dents, and a few scorch marks.

Shockwave turned to face him. "Megatron," he said in his deep, monotone voice. "I see you have sustained minor damage."

Megatronus, towering and still radiating the energy of combat, gave a faint grunt of acknowledgment. "Nothing significant." He stepped into the center of the medbay, his gaze briefly sweeping over the equipment before settling on Shockwave. "I came for a quick check."

The scientist wasted no time, gesturing for Megatron to lay on the medical berth, activating his scanners and moving toward the larger mech. As he passed the device over the Champion's frame, recording the minor injuries, he calculated the best klik to broach the subject that had been occupying his processor was now.

"You killed the arena boss," Shockwave said bluntly.

Megatron's face didn't change. "He made a poor decision."

"Indeed. It was an illogical decision on his part, given your temperament." The purple mech paused as he finished his scan. "With him out of the way, there is a matter I wish to discuss with you."

The Champion's crossed his arms, watching Shockwave with a wary optic. "Do you?"

Shockwave continued his examination as though the conversation was of no particular importance. "C-14. I require him for experimentation."

"Why?" His tone came out sharp and suspicious.

Shockwave did not hesitate. "He is a unique specimen. Not constructed like most Cybertronians. He is... anomalous, much like Soundwave. There is valuable data to be extracted from his frame—data that could further my research significantly."

Megatron frowned, thinking. "No."

"No?" he repeated, though the question lacked any real inquiry. It was simply a confirmation.

"C-14 is more than a mere subject for experimentation," the silver titan answered evenly. "He can be a valuable asset."

Shockwave tilted his helm slightly, his analytical nature prompting him to inquire further. "Valuable in what way? His combat abilities are formidable, but his true potential lies in understanding what makes him different. With more in-depth study, we could unlock—"

"Enough." A low growl accompanying his words. "He will not be dissected. C-14's influence is growing among the lower castes. Some still have not fully committed to our cause. This gladiator has their attention and respect. If we bring him into our fold, many others will follow."

The scientist remained silent for a klik, absorbing the implications. While his primary interest lay in the scientific pursuit of knowledge, he could not deny the strategic logic in Megatron's words. The miner had become a symbol for those around Cybertron, toiling in the mines.

Many other rebellions had started in the mines, growing more frequently, and within the megacycle, he calculated all of Cybertron's mines would be out of the Functionist's servos. C-14 was rallying point for those who had yet to fully align themselves with Megatron's growing movement. To dissect him now would be to waste a potentially powerful tool for influence.

"You believe he can unite the lower castes under your banner," Shockwave deduced aloud, watching as the gladiator stood.

The Champion nodded. "C-14's rebellion lit a fire in the sparks of many. If he stands with me, we could bring even more to our side. They fear the uprising of the lower castes. If C-14 aligns with us, it will tip the balance."

The scientist's processor worked through the potential outcomes, weighing the benefits of allowing C-14 to remain intact versus the loss of an opportunity to study him more intimately. Finally, he reached the logical conclusion.

"Very well," he said at last, returning to his work on perfecting the cortical psychic path. "For now, C-14 will remain untouched. I suggest you retrieve him before the enforcers do. If you do not, he will be lost to you."

The Champion chuckled, dark and knowing. "I always get what I want, Shockwave."

Shockwave simply hummed. "We shall see."

Megatron, satisfied with the scientist's acquiescence, turned toward the door. "Thank you for the check," he said, his tone neutral once more. As he left, the doors hissed shut behind him, leaving Shockwave alone with his thoughts once more.

For now, C-14's fate was intertwined with Megatron's plans. But there would come a time, whether in victory or in failure, when the miner would be his to study.

Patience, after all, had always been one of his greatest virtues.

Megatron knew full well that Shockwave never truly accepted refusals. He was always calculating, always planning. But for now, at least, the matter was settled. The scientist was loyal, so long as he was free to do what he pleased. If it weren't for his brilliant neural net, he would have disposed of him long ago.

He quickly cut off these thoughts and found himself thinking once again of the Matrix. The Champion was infuriated that the Matrix of Leadership eluded him. Rumors had it that Vector Sigma was in the Sonic Canyons, but that was a lie. They had searched every square inch of the place and there was no sign of the supercomputer, which led him to believe that it was elsewhere, and someone had purposefully planted information like that.

And now there was the matter of the Senate cutting off all energon to Kaon. This was—

Soundwave broke into his thoughts with a ping.

SW: Proteus has made an offer.

Megatron frowned, knowing that whatever this was, it had to be significant if Soundwave had contacted him about it.

M: What kind of offer?

A screen nearby flickered to the life, playing a holorecording of Senator Proteus.

"My fellow Cybertronians, the time has come to end this division between us. The Decepticon movement, despite its recent... unfortunate activities, has proven that there is a voice among the working class that wishes to be heard. And we must be willing to listen."

Megatronus' optics narrowed as Proteus continued, his face smoothed out into one of openness and perfectly trustworthy.

"I propose a path forward. The Decepticon cause may seek change, but it cannot succeed through violence and rebellion. However, I do not believe its ideals must be discarded. If the Decepticons wish to see reform, then they must do so through the proper channels, as all political movements must."

A slow, simmering rage burned in Megatron's spark.

"Therefore, I am offering this: If ten thousand Decepticons come forward—openly, willingly, and in good faith—registering with their real names and renouncing terrorism, then I will personally see to it that the Decepticons are recognized as a legal political party.

"Under the terms of Proteus's Promise, Decepticon supporters have 48 breems to register before it is rendered void. I—"

SW: Designation spreading among the populace. Public information films under production. Propaganda posters deployed across major city-states. Proteus's face now hovers over Kaon, Iacon, and Altihex.

It was a brilliant trap. A promise of legitimacy and a way out. For those in the movement who were uncertain—for those who feared the coming war—this would be an appealing offer. Many might take the risk, desperate for a peaceful resolution. And if they did?

They would be marked, stripped of their anonymity before they were inevitably crushed beneath the Council's heel strut.

The Senate would have the names and faces of every single registered Decepticon, all conveniently gathered in one place. Then, they would start disappearing. To the Brig or to the Institution. It was not an offer. It was a death sentence wrapped in a pretty bow.

M: Soundwave, we need to make sure no one falls for this. Tell the others—spread the word. No Decepticon registers.

SW: Affirmative.

The Champion glared at Proteus's glowing, smiling face and decided should he ever get his servos on him, he would punch him into slag. You may think you're clever, Senator, he thought. But I'm clever too.

He needed to find Orion. After walking through the halls of the arena, nearly circumventing the entire building, he finally caught sight of his brother standing near the entrance. But he wasn't alone.

A tall, pink femme stood beside him. Her frame was slender and curvy, with many pointed ends most prominently on her large shoulder armor and helm. Black and white accents ran across her frame, intertwining with the glaring polished pink, not even a scratch in sight. She held herself straight, and perfect, just like the high caste scrap.

His optics narrowed. Who in the Pit—?

Then, he vaguely recalled Orion for the past few solar cycles "hanging" around a mysterious femme. Soundwave had alerted him to this, since he was always surveying the mech because of his distrust for him. She was Aita One, or something close to that.

Orion, his Orion, should not be standing next to someone like that. His spark clenched at the thought. The archivist was his—his friend, his partner in this cause, his equal, and he would not let some high-caste senator sink her talons into him.

Without hesitation, Megatron closed the distance and seized his little librarian's arm, possessively pulling him away from the femme.

The red and blue mech stumbled slightly at the abrupt movement. "Megatronus!"

"Who is this?" the Champion growled, his optics flashing as he shot a sharp glare at the femme.

She met his gaze with a calm, impassive stare.

"She's with Alpha Trion," Orion quickly explained, shaking off Megatron's hold but not stepping away from him. "Megatronus, listen to me—he's trying to get us a meeting with the High Council."

All thoughts of the femme fled his mind in the klik. A what? He turned fully to face him, staring at him shocked. "You're joking."

Orion, still rubbing his wrist from the overzealous grip, smiled shyly, an expression that made his spark sing. He wasn't joking, and that was both obvious in his EM field and his expression.

A meeting with the High Council. This was everything. He had spent so long fighting to be heard. So long building a movement from nothing, scraping together followers from the lowest castes, clawing his way into visibility through the arenas, and now, a door had been opened.

It was an opportunity to change Cybertron without war, if they listened of course. He had a hard time believing that this was true. After all their struggles—after the speeches, the arrests, the near-riots—after all the times they had been dismissed, ignored, and silenced—this?

His instincts told him to be wary and to expect a trap. "You're serious?" His voice was edged with suspicious, but it was softer than usual.

Orion nodded, shifting on his pedes. "Alpha Trion believes in us," he stated firmly. "He believes in what we're fighting for. He thinks we deserve to be heard."

The gladiator nodded and spared a glance at the femme standing beside his archivist. She had remained silent this whole time, watching him with a sharp, assessing gaze.

"And what about her?" he asked coldly, optics flicking to her well-maintained plating. "Is she one of them?"

The femme—who still hadn't introduced herself—tilted her helm, unimpressed. "One of who?" A dangerous tone entered her voice.

His optics narrowed. "Another high-caste elite who thinks she understands what it means to be oppressed."

Orion vented. "Megatronus—"

"Do you always greet potential allies with suspicion and hostility?" the femme interrupted, her tone clipped.

Megatron scoffed. "When those 'potential allies' come from the same system that has been crushing us for millennia? Yes."

Orion frowned, stepping forward slightly, his field brushing against Megatron's, soothing his temper with his calm field before it could ignite. "She's with Alpha Trion, Megatronus. We can trust her."

"Fine."

He didn't trust her. But he trusted Orion. And if the archivist said she was trustworthy, he would be less hostile to her. That wouldn't stop him from monitoring her, though.

"Does she have a name?" the gladiator muttered.

"She's right here, and he can ask her name." When he merely glared at her, the femme arched an optic ridge, clearly unamused. "Elita One," she answered, coolly.

Megatron huffed. "Hmph."

Orion rubbed his faceplate, exasperated. "By the Primes, Megatronus—"

"Fine," the Champion cut him off. "Fine. Let's say I believe this. Let's say Alpha Trion can get us in front of the High Council. What then, Orion?"

His optics burned as he looked at his friend. "What if this is just a? What if they're only calling us in to silence us once and for all? If we step into that chamber, we're putting everything at risk."

The little librarian's gaze hardened. "We've been putting everything at risk from solar cycle one, Megatron."

"...When?" Megatron finally asked.

Orion's derma curved slightly. "Alpha Trion will contact me." Much to the Champion's surprise, the archivist threw his arms around him in an embrace, whispering into his into his chassis, "Thank you."

His frame went rigid at the embrace, before it relaxed. He wasn't one to do physical affection out in the open as he did have a reputation to uphold, after all. But this was Orion. His arms found their way around his brother, as he returned the embrace.

Megatron could feel Orion's intertwined in his, warm and unguarded, filled with trust. It was a familiar and comfortable thing, but it could not last forever, as they had an... audience. Just as the Champion was about to pull away, the archivist beat him to it, stepping back with a soft ex-vent.

Elita One's piercing gaze was on them, and when Megatron met her optics, he saw something that resembled disapproval. Her winglets twitched, and then she straightened, the cold mask sliding back into place.

"I suspect the Senate might try something to make the Decepticons look bad," she remarked. "Not that they need much help with the bombings."

A deep, low growl rumbled from his chassis. Elita ignored it. "Just like they're trying to trap them with the Decepticon Registration Act," she added, voice light but pointed. "I hope they aren't stupid enough to believe in Proteus's little promise."

Another growl.

"I must be going," the femme said with a pleasant smile. She turned lifted a servo in a small beckoning motion. Orion pulled away from him and stepped closer to her, causing his optics to narrow in suspicion. What was this femme up to?

She leaned in, murmuring something too soft for him to catch.

Whatever it was, it made Orion's derma pull downward in a frown, optical ridges furrowing. There was a quick, fleeting expression that Megatron couldn't quite read before the librarian composed himself again, nodding to Elita before she turned and walked away.

The gladiator watched her leave, optics flashing, and then turned back to Orion. "What did she say?" he demanded.

Orion hesitated for a fraction of a nano-klik, just long enough for Megatron to know he was about to lie.

"Nothing."

His derma turned downward in a frown, but he said nothing further on the subject. Instead, he placed a servo on his librarian's shoulder and led him back into the arena. He had a task for him, and it could prove helpful to Megatron.

This 'C-14' Shockwave had mentioned... If he had managed to catch the scientist's interest, then he was no ordinary mech. Shockwave did not waste time on common gladiators or rebellious miners, unless he was using them for his experiments. If C-14 had gained his attention, it meant he was something special.

His helm tilted slightly as he observed Orion, whose face was thoughtful. There was a small crease in his brow, his derma pressed together in thought. Whatever the femme had said to him had clearly left an impression. But right now, Megatronus had something more important on his neural net.

"Orion, do you think you can access the Hall of Records' files from here?"

The archivist bit his lower derma. "I don't know," he admitted, glancing around their surroundings. "I no longer have my official access codes, and with the Clampdown, I imagine security has tightened. If I try to remotely tap into the system, I could be flagged."

Megatron grunted, considering his options. He needed information on this C-14, and he needed it. The miner was managing to hold one of the largest energon mines hostage for nearly a over cycle now. That alone was impressive. No had been able to challenge the Senate so openly and hold their ground for so long.

And yet, the Champion had never heard of him before. That was odd. He made it a point to know everyone who posed a potential threat or asset to his cause. If this miner was truly capable of what Shockwave claimed, then Megatron had to know more.

Orion shifted beside him, his optics searching. "Why the sudden interest? Who is it you're looking for?"

Megatron considered his response carefully. He had no reason to lie to him, but at the same time, he wasn't about to share every detail. "A mech called C-14," he finally said. "He's the one holding Nova Point's energon mine hostage."

The archivist's optical ridges furrowed, and the Champion nearly laughed in disbelief. "Have you been living under a rock, brother?"

His little librarian ducked his helm. "W-well, I-I have been busy..." he muttered, sounding just as shy was the solar cycle he met him.

Megatron chuckled softly, clasping his friend's shoulder. "Once this is all over, I'm going to drag you from your datapads and take you all over Cybertron. You'll have no excuse not to know what's going on," he said, terribly amused.

Orion's audial receptors flattened against his helm, one sign that he was embarrassed. "Megatronus..." he trailed off, and then in a not-so-subtle-way, he changed the topic. Megatron allowed it. "I suppose I could with the Master Archivist's codes."

"Did you steal them?"

"Megatronus!" the archivist exclaimed, sounding rather offended. "Alpha Trion entrusted me with them before I left the Hall of Records."

Megatron huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his helm. "That old mech is smarter than I thought."

Orion gave him a sharp look. "Megatronus."

The Champion raised his servos in mock apology.

The archivist frowned. "The Master Archivist's codes will allow me to have the highest authorization, complete access to all sensitive information, historical accounts and records of Cybertron's foundations. His frame type, build, and his function should be documented."

Megatron nodded. "Why don't we get you somewhere comfortable so you can start?"

Orion vented, but despite his obvious reluctance, he didn't pull away. The Champion knew him too well. The archivist could never keep himself away from his work, and ever since he had lost his former life, he had been trying to make up in various ways. Most of the time, he would spend it outside of the arena in Kaon.

He'd always send one of Soundwave's Minicons trailing after him, he didn't trust anybot in this city.

"Alright," the archivist conceded.

Orion Pax didn't quite understand why this particular bot had caught Megatronus' attention. He frowned as the search results slowly populated on the screen. There wasn't much to go on at first glance—just a handful of records about C-14's designation, his caste, and his function as a miner.

Most of it was already known information, routine records of a life spent toiling in the depths of Cybertron. He continued to dig deeper, cycling through system after system. The further he delved into C-14's records, the more restricted they became. His frown deepened as he encountered access barriers, encrypted files, and documents marked as "Classified" by the Functionist Council themselves.

This mech was heavily tied to the Functionists. His optics narrowed as he accessed another file, only to be met with another locked entry. There was more to this miner than met the optic, that much was becoming clear.

The records he could access showed that C-14 had spent the majority of his existence in the mining caste, working deep in the energon mines underneath Kaon. He was later moved to Nova Point.

C-14 was just one of thousands like him, bots who were given no choice but to live and die under the surface. There was no indication that the miner had done anything out of the ordinary. He had no history of rebellion or insubordination. In fact, by all appearances, he had been a compliant cog in the machine of Cybertron's caste system.

So why, Orion wondered, was Megatronus so interested in him?

He pulled up another file. This one, too, was encrypted. He attempted to bypass the security protocols, but even with his access as the Master Archivist, this data was highly restricted. He couldn't even get a glimpse of what the file contained, just a notice that it was classified by the Functionist Council themselves.

Classified? For a miner? the archivist thought, shaking his helm. There was no reason for a simple laborer to have records this tightly controlled. Unless...

He pulled up the few personal details available: C-14 had been cold constructed, his existence beginning in the lower castes like many others. He was assigned to mining shortly after his forging and had spent nearly his entire life in the mines.

Orion couldn't help but feel sympathy as he read the details. Like so many others, this miner had been condemned to a life of servitude, his purpose dictated from the moment he came online. Yet, despite his lowly origins, the Functionists had kept a close optic on him.

It didn't make sense. He cycled through the records again, searching for some indication of what had drawn their attention. But the deeper he dug, the more restricted the information became. It was as if someone—or something—wanted to ensure that C-14's history remained obscured.

"Who in the pits are you?" Orion asked aloud.

Whoever C-14 was, the Functionists were clearly interested in keeping him under their control. His records were heavily redacted, whole sections blacked out or scrubbed entirely from the archives. There were gaps in the data, too—periods of time unaccounted for, missing from the official records. Most likely, someone had erased portions of his past and activities.

He attempted one more search. He dived into the older systems; the ones that had been mostly abandoned as the technology improved on Cybertron. These archives were not as well-maintained, but they sometimes contained data that had slipped through the cracks of the more restricted systems. It was a long shot, but if there was anything on C-14 that hadn't been locked down, this was where he would find it.

He found older, less detailed records, but even these were sparse. There was a mention of C-14 being reassigned to the surface briefly, possibly for maintenance, but the details were unclear. The only other notable entry was a brief medical report from long ago, something about "unusual energy readings" from the miner's systems.

Whatever those readings had been, they had caught someone's attention, but the rest of the report was missing. More questions, and still no answers.

Megatronus had been right to suspect something about this bot, even if he hadn't shared his full reasoning with Orion. There was more to C-14 than met the optic.

There was nothing more he could do about the miner's past, so he closed out the terminal with a sigh, though not before he downloaded the data on his datapad. He would need to speak to Megatronus and share what little information he had found.

What kind of bot needed their entire existence hidden?