Chapter Text
Cybertron was a mess.
It wasn't the same as Optimus had left it. No, not destroyed from ages of a raging war, not smoky and black.
It was... drenched. In energon. Smoke still rose from the surface like it was supposed to be there, everything was wrong. Like it was still at war. It was quiet. Not the kind of quiet that spoke of long lost people and ages of unbroken silence. It was the quiet that spoke in the place of screams, violence. The quiet that Optimus expected to be shattered any instant by explosions or shouting. The wailing of sparlings and tears of dying mechs.
No, Cybertron wasn't dormant. It was at war.
To be honest, Optimus wasn't sure if they were still at war or not.
He stood on the crest of a hill overlooking Iacon- or what used to be Iacon. Alone in the void of silence, he couldn't seem to remember why this felt wrong.
It'd been his life for millennia. Why did it only feel wrong now? Why did the absence of screams and war make him uncomfortable?
The sun was settling over the horizon, casting a sickly and hazy dark orange through the smoke.
His processor spun with unanswered questions, a sort of holy feeling keeping him standing. All he wanted was rest. From the spilled energon, from the fighting. He couldn't collapse even if he wanted to. They needed him. Everyone needed him.
But where were they?
Optimus finally forced his pedes to move, turning in circles in search for his lost soldiers. He only found baren land, collapsed buildings and energon stained ground.
Where were they??
His optics clicked, adjusting to see farther- he instantly regretted it.
Bodies.
Rusting, rotting, others drowning in their life force.
Optimus stumbled back, immediately re-setting his optics. His tanks churned as he slowly sank to his knees.
Maybe it was his fogging thoughts, maybe it was the haze of battle lifting... but he'd never felt more sick. Optimus prime, was a mech used to death. To war.
But he was sickened. It all felt useless. All this death, the sparkling's and mechs and femmes all dead- and for what!? This hadn't happened during the war- had it? He didn't remember DAMNIT! He couldn't remember! But the prime was positive he had never caused anything like it. He always evacuated. Always checked before firing on the enemy. Always made sure civilians didn't get caught in combat! So WHY was this how the battlefield- how their planet looked? Bodies piled for miles, and entire race gone because of slaughter and war??
Optimus knew Megatron, and maybe it was different now, but this didn't seem his intention either! Megatron wanted change, not to end an entire race. He wanted a war. Not extinction.
But could he really say that for sure? Did he know his former brother that well?
The spiral of darkening thoughts made it impossible for him to hear the whispering coming from behind the rubble behind him. Made it impossible to think clearly much less sense any coming danger.
The Prime vented harshly, the matrix finally taking control and calming his systems.
His soldiers.
Optimus needed his soldiers.
With a huff he forced himself back to his pedes, turning around to-
Jazz froze, optics locking with his leaders.
A long silence followed, the only audible sounds being the harsh wind and,
"I will actually tear your spark and give it to Nemesis if you don't shut the frag up."
Optimus's helm snapped towards the voice of his medic, unseen but definitely heard.
Thank Primus- his soldiers were okay.
His processor didn't catch the way Jazz backed up, or the different plating. All Optimus knew was any friend he had in this desecrated planet was a blessing from the great creator himself.
Your lieutenant is supposed to be dead. The matrix whispered.
He ignored that too, opting instead to sprint towards his comrades, finding it easier to vent around them.
Ratchet rounded the corner, still muttering threats as he stared at the monitor in his arm plating. "Jazz I'd almost be sorry for you if-" he looked up, optics going wide as they found Optimus.
No one spoke, the heavy silence filling the air as the primes processor finally saw it. The discoloration, the loss of usual spark, the look of hatred on both the bot's faceplates.
What...?
Concern was his first reaction.
"Jazz- Ratchet? What happened to you two??"
The medic quickly fixed his expression, an almost sly look flitting into his optics. "Nothing. Nothing at all."
A bolt of cold pain went down Optimus's spinal strut.
Jazz stepped away from him, crossing his arms. "So? What's your verdict?"
Ratchet hummed, not quiet and serine as he used to, more like a covered groan. "A very worthy specimen, that's for sure. Would make Nemesis happy."
The word 'specimen' set every alarm in Optimus's helm off. The glow of fragging red optics shown at him as the medic casually leaned a servo on his hip. "What? Realizing something, Prime?"
Jazz shook his helm, a low chuckle shaking his shoulders. "Oh please, PLEASE let me."
Optimus's optics flicked to him before going back to Ratchet, who met his gaze with nothing but cold curiosity.
This was wrong.
All wrong.
It was a dream. It HAD to be.
The shot to his arm wasn't a dream.
The hot blaster bolt seared directly through his shoulder plating, shoving him back a step.
Wait- what?!
Only for a moment did his optics stay on his shoulder before they flashed back to the two mechs in front of him.
His battle protocols came online instantly, his mask clicking into place as it always did.
This was wrong.
So. Very. Wrong.
These were not his soldiers. Not his clan.
The matrix seemed to agree, giving no other opinions other than Defend
Jazz blew the smoke out of his blaster, looking back to him with a wide grin. "Don't be too easy on me now!"
The prime didn't have time to react before the mech lunged at him, blaster whirring to life yet again as he slammed into abdominal plating, sending them both crashing to the hard soil.
Ratchet laughed, a twisted noise Optimus found hard to listen to.
Jazz didn't give him time to listen though, jumping to his pedes and aiming directly at the primes faceplates. "Come on prime, test me a little! Give me a-"
Optimus swept both pedes out from under Jazz in a swift kick, the blaster going off, discharging into the dirt next to him. With them both on the ground Optimus rolled, smashing the visor straight into the other's optics with his elbow, cringing at the enraged yell he gained.
This wasn't his Jazz. He didn't want this.
Lost amid his thoughts, Optimus didn't see the servo until it yanked his helm down by the audial finial, the scratching shriek had him cringing. As well as the intensely sensitive finial burning.
His helm slammed into the dirt as Jazz's other servo grabbed onto his plating and flipping them around. Jazz, now on top of him, wore the grin of an insane mech as he plunged his servo blade straight through the same shoulder he'd shot.
Agony ripped across the entire left half of his frame, his free servo transforming to shoot the offending bot off him.
Optimus hauled himself to his pedes, battle protocols taking over every inch of his processor. He couldn't afford to think. Friend or not.
His blaster servo took puck shots at Jazz, who took to sprinting in wide circles to avoid being melted.
A plan.
He needed a plan.
Slowly but surely a plan began to form. If he could-
The blade ripped through his thigh, pain and exhaustion quickly driving him to his knees. While undignified, the pained shriek that left his intake delighted the two other bots on the field.
Jazz actually laughed, mock saluting the medic. "Ha! Good one doc! For once."
Optimus didn't have time to listen. He needed to get up. Forcing himself up, he didn't get far before Jazz's blade slashed across his cheek plate. "Ah ah ah! No sir! You, need to stay down." Before he could stab the blade wherever he planned to, Optimus grabbed it, yanking towards himself and slamming their helms together, using the other mechs upright position to pull himself to his pedes.
He was so tired. There was certainly no reason to be, he'd only been here for not even a joor.
Jazz stumbled, clutching his helm as energon flowed freely from the shattered optic under his broken visor. "OKAY I've had just about enough of this!" He raised his blaster to the primes spark, grinning wider than any mech should.
He didn't get to fire.
The pede that met Optimus's helm did the job for him, tossing the disoriented mech only a couple meters away.
"Nemesis would have your helm. Which I'd gladly give him if my job wasn't on the line just as much as yours was."
He couldn't find it in himself to get up. Optimus tried. The matrix yelled at him, telling him he'd perish if he didn't. But his joints gave, dropping him unceremoniously on the ground.
He was in agony.
He heard pede steps, only to be roughly hauled to his knees by the medic he used to call a friend.
What happened? Why now? What did I do?
Ratchet held him up almost tenderly, grabbing ahold of his face to force his gaze to Jazz.
Not his Jazz. Never his Jazz. His Jazz would never.
But... weren't they the same mech? Could they be?
More anxious thoughts flooded his processor, only coming out of them when Jazz crouched in front of him, grin still wide, not seeming to mind missing half of his visor. "This is easily the best part of my day; you look JUST like him and DAMN that felt good! But alas..." he glanced away, smirk slowly falling. "Now I am forced to turn you over."
The mech stood, shaking his helm sadly. "A shame. You'd make a fine warrior. Frankly I like you better than him. But it's not up to me. Hmph. Enjoy the torture."
Him? Torture? A look alike? What in the HELL did this bot mean?!
By now Optimus was just frustrated. Angry. Terrified.
It was all wrong.
Ratchet's grip turned more caring, his servos gently making their way down his throat to hug his chassis. "Aww you poor thing... so scared and lost."
The stasis needle went straight into his neck cables.
FRAG-
He sharply invented, trying desperately not to feel the sting of the needle, to run.
"Rightly so."
The medic stood, letting Optimus fall. He threw the needle, chuckling. "I'm going to have SO much fun poking around that later."
This couldn't be right! In no universe-
He couldn't think straight. His frame was failing. A blinking warning flashed in his HUD.
Frame: Unstable
Stasis: Imminent
Optimus's frame failed him, locking into stasis.
Dropping onto hard metal knocked the consciousness back into Optimus's frame, his processor slowly coming back online.
"Jazz, for once I don't want to kill you."
"WHAT? What did I do wrong?!"
His optics soon onlined, the dark bunker slowly coming into view.
A set of stairs about ten meters in front of him, leading up to... a throne? Optimus reset his optics to see the mech on said throne, who lay lazily draped sideways across it, ankle struts crossed. Dark. Everyone was so dark...
A figure came to loom behind the throne, dark magenta hues mixing with black- Elita?
His spark rose straight into his throat- only to come crashing back down as he finally discerned the figure in the throne.
It was... well him. By ever aspect it was Optimus prime. But the details wavered there, dark orange optics met his, a battle mas identical to his covering the rest of the mech's expression. "Oh my... would you look at that."
Elita- or the other version of Elita also smirked, her maroon optics glancing to Jazz.
"Look what the cavalry brought in! Jazz not being useless for once!"
Jazz laughed behind him. "Elita! Not being a slut for once!"
The femme's grin grew predatory. "You think you're so funny! Yet I know where you recharge! Keep it in your lane there, traitor."
The mech finally walked past Optimus, scoffing before taking a deep bow before the throne ahead of them. "Lord Nemesis, I've proved myself for the zillionth time. So if you wouldn't mind reignin' in that pet of yours..."
Optimus's look alike tilted his helm, slowly standing and holding up a servo before Elita could jump the throne. "Stay. I would like to know more about this... specimen."
Ratchet finally stepped forwards, grabbing ahold of the cuffs now binding his servos, hauling him to his knees. "Eh, looks almost exactly like you. Though I'd reckon a significant amount of change in the spark."
Wrong.
It was so wrong.
Optimus did his best to look even mildly dignified while he was forced to forgo judgement from- himself. As well as examination.
Frag 'specimen' he'd rip their throats out.
The matrix burned hotter, angry whispers telling him he shouldn't be so violent and scolding him for ever thinking like that.
Optimus vented, closing his optics for a moment. Whatever this was, he needed to find out. And now.
He opened his optics to a deep orange, flinching back with a barely contained yell.
His copy's optics glistened with glee, dark paint glinting in the overhead light. "Oh you ARE awake, fantastic."
In vent.
Ex vent.
Pretend it was Megatron if needed. He'd faced weirder.
"Yes. Nemesis, was it?"
"Welll sure! Or, Prime, Nemesis, Orion, Lord, Slave, Thief, Murderer- it doesn't matter what I'm called. I'm a nobody. Always have been!" he turned to let out a short laugh. Servos coming to rest on his waist. "It's the best thing when everything you love is torn out of your life by- well, me. And to have you realize that it was by a nobody. A meaningless piece of scrap tore out the throats of everyone you ever loved and just... left them there!" The mech turned, his facemask still not having disengaged.
No... name? No SET name? Other than the ones his soldiers called him by...
Optimus vented again, looking away. "Why would you never settle on a name? Your reputation depends on it."
Nemesis almost choked laughing (again) and turned, shaking his helm almost sadly. "It really is funny, the fact that bots think I care about reputation. It's meaningless when anyone could just... twist it. Whether it's a carrier sugar coating a story for her sparkling, or a historian changing history with a flick of their wrist a million years from now. No, I won't be remembered. But every action, every slaughter every battle? That. That'll be remembered for eternity."
Slaughter? Battle?
Optimus's frantic optics scanned the rest of the room, finding twisted versions of his Autobots stalking near the walls or corners. A cold realization settled in his spark.
Wrong. It was wrong.
"What... what have you done to my home?" quiet fury bubbled under his gaze, the image of energon soaked sparkling's and a burning land settling at the front of his processor.
Nemesis turned, audial finials perking up. "Hm? Oh! Cybertron!" he moved towards the far wall, clicking a few buttons into a panel, massive metal shutters slowly lifting to once again expose the broken land to it's prime.
Optimus's spark sank at the sight, the slight churning of his tanks returning.
He was disgusted.
It must have shown, because the false prime's facemask suddenly disengaged, a grin far to unnatural looking for his faceplates. "You like it? I've been remodeling."
Horror was the only graspable emotion running through Optimus, an unaidable pain burning at the edges of his frame. Somewhere he heard a couple bots snicker, or hum in approval.
Wrong. All wrong.
Nemesis's optics stayed on him, as if looking for approval. "It's beautiful, isn't it? It's funny. They tried to keep me down, told me I wasn't good enough." he vented out, casting his gaze around the room, almost proud. "I asked them if they were impressed as I cut out each of their sparks. And then I burned their world."
The fake stalked to Optimus grabbing his face with a sudden harshness. "Am I good enough now? Have I proved myself? What do you think? After all, you're nothing but a version of me."
Optimus couldn't force himself to meet a monster's optics. He wouldn't. Instead the prime forced his helm down, staring to the floor.
Primus... Please let this be a dream... I could never... would never...
This couldn't be possible- ever. Right?
Instead of answering the twisted question, Optimus opted to ask his own. "What... what did they do to you? Why would you willingly kill so many?" The mangled body of a child came to processor.
If slightly widened optics were anything to tell by, Nemesis was surprised at the question. However the look wasn't long lived before the dark prime smirked, fangs bared as if the question offended him.
"Well... hm." he huffed, shaking his helm before letting go of Optimus, stepping back to instead pace. "You're a prime. Primus, I'M a prime. You loved them- worshiped them. But you know? I used to love the primes too. Obviously, who wouldn't? However, you know what I found out? They're all... weak. they never wanted to protect and defend, they wanted to be hero's. Hero's, will always choose the world over a cause, over a person, and objective. They follow rules, they are puppets to the strings of right and wrong. But a villain? A volatile being who only hates and strives to kill?" he stood back, holding out both arms as if to present himself . "I have no ties, no rules, no glitches in my audial telling me what to do. Oh and trust me, I tried that before, yeahhh didn't work out well for my manager." A low chuckle followed.
Elita one stepped into view again, taking liberty to shove the cuffed prime to the floor with her pede. "Sir, I hate to interrupt, but rebel forces are rallying just outside Kaon."
An instant look of disgust came upon Nemesis's face, frame going ridged. "I thought we snuffed Kaon deca cycles ago."
She grit her denta, crossing her arms, turning to glare at Optimus like "Rebels" were his personal fault. "We all thought we did. However they're proving harder to deny after the extermination of their leader."
Nemesis mulled over her words for a second, his gaze loosing it's teasing edge and growing cold as he continued to stare at his better half. "Well, then I guess we'll just have to hang them from the electrical poles by their wiring!" just as fast as the deadly glare had settled, it left, his faceplates quickly fixing themselves.
"Well! Dear half, brother, copy, clone- whatever. I have busyness to attend to." he walked passed Optimus, grinning. "Tsk, Damn. Sorry I can't stay, Rebels to kill, People to torture, worlds to corrupt, an uprising to lead, you understand don't you? My schedule's full!"
Optimus was utterly sickened. He could do nothing but stare, flinching as his copy leaned down, getting just close enough to whisper in his unbroken audial. "You will tell me what you are at a later date. And I will get what I want or everything you know will fall by my servo. Understand?"
Their optics locked. Burning orange against a deep blue, both refusing to look away.
It felt like swallowing cotton when Optimus finally glanced away, uttering an "I understand."
He felt broken. Never once had he EVER- why now?!
Nemesis slowly stood, a smirk of satisfaction on his faceplates. "Good."
"Jazz! Escort our prisoner to his cell. I don't want him retaining any energon or sizable cell."
Optimus didn't know how long he'd been there. In the accursed place that was apparently the "Autobot" base.
None of it made sense. It didn't have to. It was happening and all that mattered was that he survive and make it back to his life. His earth. His Cybertron.
Currently that wasn't seeming much of an option.
His shoulder plating had never been fixed, despite having visited Ratchet. Multiple times...
His words of "You know it's sad. Your plating is beautiful, it's almost sad ruining it. Then again! Your spark's far prettier and that's what I actually want." Still made regular rounds in his processor.
Never once had the "Medic" healed him. Simply told him he didn't have enough chips to pay for a repair like that and then walked away laughing. Then proceeded to use Optimus as drug testing for the next four joors.
He still wasn't sure the effects had worn off.
Elita hadn't visited much. Only stopped by to laugh at his chained form. And joke about him being to soft.
Other bots drifted in and out.
Ironhide loved target practice.
Wheeljack was fond of plating experiments.
Arcee liked talking knives.
Bumblebee was enthusiastic to make his life horrible in any way the little mech could manage.
But Jazz... he was Optimus's last hope.
Th mech was always lurking around somewhere near his cell. Always within shouting distance at most.
In a way, it hurt. But Optimus had noticed that his Clone's relationship with Jazz resembled Megatron and Starscream.
Perhaps... he could use that.
In fact, that's what he found himself doing as of the current moment.
Jazz sighed, glancing through the bars at the mech.
"Yeah, I'd turn around and shoot that glitch in his smug face. I just know I wouldn't live to tell anyone about it if I did."
Optimus leaned heavier on the bars, attempting to stretch his leg struts in the box of a cell. "I see... so why don't you kill him before he could kill you?"
Jazz frowned, looking down. "I have no doubts Elita would slice my helm off my shoulders before I could get far. Besides, even if I wanted to help you there's no way I could even-" he paused, watching Arcee walk past.
She scowled, flipping him off.
Jazz stuck his glossa out, doing the same.
She turned the corner, rolling her optics.
He vented, rolling his optics as well. "I doubt I could help all that much."
Optimus was quickly loosing hope in his one chance out of this, but it was worth at least trying. "Wouldn't you like to be free? Happy? Please I need you to help me..."
Jazz laughed, his helm shaking as he leaned against the same bars Optimus was. "Free? HAPPY? Please, what more could I want than stayin' here in this Primus awful base and being ordered around all day??"
Optimus was tired and probably still fairly drugged. But that sounded like sarcasm.
His processor blinked with a message.
Confirmed. Sarcasm detected.
He vented out, lightly closing his optics. "Jazz... You're my last hope. I haven't done anything. I know you hate it here, I can't be here. Can we please put aside logical differences and work out something?"
A long quiet followed, Jazz quietly weighing his options.
"What... would you hypothetically need to get out?"
Optimus's audial finial perked up, as he risked a look behind him up at the mech. "A key for the chains. That's it."
Jazz sighed, shaking his helm. "Well... guess it ain't gonna get worse than this." He pulled a key from his subspace, tossing it through the bars. "Use it wisely."
And the mech disappeared down the hall.
Thank Primus!
His hope wrongfully soared. The key wasn't hard to get, his pede dragging the small metal piece to his servos.
The key fit smooth, clicking every chain off in smooth succession.
It would've felt to easy. But Optimus frankly didn't care.
He'd been through to much slag in his life not to jump at a chance when it was presented.
The lock on the cell wasn't hard to blast either.
So as soon as the door was out of his way, Optimus's processor brought up and rebooted every stealth protocol and lesson he'd ever witnessed or downloaded.
He was too close to fail because of something simple.
Optimus was a prime. He didn't fall to such silly things.
Creeping down the halls wasn't hard by any means. Avoid. Hide. Quiet. No, it wasn't very hard.
He moved down an empty hall, still single audial tuned to hear everything from blaster fire to the finest of pedesteps.
That is, until he did hear them.
Two sets, most certainly Bumblebee and Ironhide. Frag.
A door to his right seemed appealing, besides it was risk whatever was inside or being seen.
It was a given.
He clicked the door open, thankful to find it pitch black. He dove in right as the two rounded the corner. Door softly shutting behind him with a hiss.
Optimus couldn't see... anything. Only the slight blue glow of his own optics.
Two orange lights lit themselves at the other end of the room.
... what in the pits-
The overhead lights clicked on, it didn't take long for Optimus to find the disappointed face of Nemesis.
"Primus be damned! I really thought you'd behave. Even after all those things I permitted..." he sighed, almost sounding wistful. "Slag, that is sad."
A needle pierced his neck cables just as his audials recognized his medic's pedesteps.
But it wasn't a sedative this time- he clearly remembered this drug, one of the experiments he'd endured.
His processor slowed, all emergency protocols shut off, his battle mask disengaging to show just that.
It didn't take long for half his frame to shut down. Not fully. No, he was still conscious. Just in immense pain.
How had they known-
Obviously he knew. It didn't make it hurt any less though.
Jazz sighed, twirling (ironically) a key in his servo. "Damn, I expected even you to see that coming."
Optimus's plating twitched and trembled painfully, but he forced his helm up, casting a glare at his lieutenant. He didn't have the energy for words.
Jazz noticed his gaze, gasping as he laid a servo over his spark chamber. "Oh me? Yeah sorry~ I tried that once, didn't end up well. In any case, I get benefits for playing along with the Primes little circus here. Might as well get em' now." He shrugged, leaning back against the wall.
Nemesis's gaze had turned yet again cold, running his glossa over his denta in thought. "I really am disappointed in you... I thought we'd come to an understanding! Apparently not..."
Elita shook her helm next to him, needlessly ramming her pede into his already burning side. "I won't even want to lay eyes on this piece of scrap again. How about you, My lord?"
Nemesis in vented, tilting his helm at a disturbingly odd angle. "Elita, my dear... what was it you said about Extermination of rebels?"
The femme perked up, grinning wide to display all her denta. "I believe, Lord Nemesis, I said all rebel leaders may be exterminated."
The fake prime's grin grew to match his femme, nodding approvingly. "Yes... I do believe that will work just fine."
Execution.
The word bounced around his helm, the only thought he'd had since they'd left the ship.
Barely did he notice the large intact courtyard. He barely noticed the tall statues of previous primes not toppled, or the running fountains. Barely noticed the glowing crystals that grew in massive gardens.
Optimus Prime... was terrified.
Scarcely did he know what was happening, or where he was. He felt small as a sparkling. Lost and unable to find his clan.
The sky hadn't cleared of smoke, but as he forced himself to look up, he was thankful for the beams of sunlight shining through the smoke and clouds.
Primus was still with him.
...
Probably.
The matrix, still un-useful seared his spark for such thoughts.
However it remained a hard thing to believe as Jazz and Elita-one. Both comrades he'd thought he'd lost, now dragged him to the center of the courtyard, a massive elevated stage finding it's place under his tired limbs.
As well as an execution block.
In contrast to the bright and clean courtyard, the block and everywhere around it matched the rest of the planet. Drenched in splattered energon. Never cleaned or polished.
Optimus could smell the leftover life force, survival protocols fighting against exhaustion to make him thrash.
He was a prime.
He wouldn't be executed in front of- oh.
The crowd.
Dozens- thousands- ten thousands of mechs and femmes stood in the yard, all faced towards him, all looking giddy.
They wanted this.
Optimus's venting came harsher.
What had his race come to?
No one questioned. No one asked.
A servo clasped around the back of his throat, picking the prime almost all the way off the ground as it dragged him closer to the block, a rusty slab of metal still wet with others energon.
No no no-NO!
Optimus shoved himself away, clawing desperately at the servo, finally getting it free.
Nemesis's sharp optics watched him fall, denta gritting. "Come now! It's for the best."
Optimus shoved himself up quickly spinning to sprint off stage.
Ten meters. Ten meters to the edge of the stage was where the blast hit him.
The right side of his chassis was gone. He couldn't have kept on if he tried.
Nemesis didn't make it slow. He stalked to the fallen mech, looking half insane with how wide his optics were dialed. "Did you REALLY think you could escape? Escape ME? Ohhhh My dear Prime..." He dug his servo into the Prime's throat cables, dragging him roughly back to the block.
His helm was slammed to the cold metal, energon spattering into his optics from the pools still present on the block.
"You can't run."
One last effort. Optimus tried. He tried to get up, True fingers of terror finding it's way into his spark.
This wasn't how this ended-
"You know what?" Nemesis whispered, grinning wide at the crowd. "There really was no other way this could've ended."
His side bled harshly, his only working audial exposed to the cruel whispers of the fake prime.
"I'll always win. No matter what you do. It'll always be me. I'm Inside you. You just chose to ignore me. But you won't for long. I'll take over, I'll kill them all. I'll make energon run so freely it'll become a natural resource again." he huffed out a laugh. "Damn I hope there's windows in the Allspark, otherwise you'd miss all the fun!"
His sword came down.
Nightmares weren't uncommon.
Especially not for a Prime who had spent his whole life in war. No, not uncommon at all.
Optimus woke with heavy venting, his plating burning while he could do nothing but tremble.
It was gone.
All of it. The crowd, the false prime, the sword-
The feeling of his neck cables being sliced through by a hot blade was still prevalent, enough so Optimus had to reach a servo up and check just to make sure it really was only a dream.
Because he was in his berth, in his base, on earth. With his soldiers and medic. It wasn't real.
None of it was.
Hot tears prickled at the edges of his optics. He forced them to stay dormant.
Pain. Pain and agony- reminders. That he was nothing more than Primus's puppet.
The matrix bristled at that, whispering sweet nothings in his helm, making it known he was needed. Useful. Perfect. A tool.
That thought came from himself, but the Matrix didn't appreciate it. If it could have hissed it would have, instead causing a burning sensation in his chest and muttering about how he only needed reminding.
Right.
Because he'd been thinking about ending the war. Ending this accursed fight that had waged on far longer than any mech should be alive for. Because he'd been imagining what would happen if he killed himself. Or maybe told Megatron he was done fighting. Told him he surrendered.
And for that. For that he'd suffered a nightmare originating from the depths of the pit. Of hell.
It was the only reasonable answer. Primus- couldn't come up with that himself could he?
...
Would he?
The matrix burned. Ached and burned and caused pain.
Told him there was nothing left to fight for, that he could give all he had to Primus and let him take over.
The very whisperings brought the tears back.
It didn't stop.
Not when he asked kindly.
Give in child. Let us control. We promise no pain.
Wasn't that all his functioning had ever been!? Optimus flinched violently when the same words came again, louder.
No. No he couldn't fall into thoughts like that- there'd been a time! A time when he was young and hopeful and loved- had joy!
We're terribly sorry dear one. You only needed reminding of your function. Let us in.
NO!
He wanted to scream. But didn't, only swallowing the thick feeling in his intake and trying to block out the voice.
Don't disappoint us dear child. We must help. It's our purpose to help you.
Optimus wanted to jam their words back down their throats. They WEREN'T helping! In any way! If only they KNEW.
Let us in-
The prime's trembling servos made it to his audials, the tall standing finals going down in the first display of emotion in four million years. He clawed at his receptors, trying to block out the voices.
He didn't need this. He couldn't do this right now-
Come now child. Do not block us out. Let it out, let us control.
That actually incited a short lived scream out of the prime as he fell off the berth. It needed to stop- he couldn't make it stop!
Tears long since burning down his faceplates didn't stop. Only came harder. Venting was practically impossible as Optimus lost himself.
Come to us. You poor child...
He didn't want it. He never did.
Everything was hot, he could feel every wire overheating, every piece of plating burning, every vent painful at best.
He couldn't think.
Base functions told him there was a threat.
Calm. You are ours and we will help. Let us-
He couldn't do it anymore.
In an act of pain, fear, and undeniable rage Optimus's chestplates moved, the mech yanking the cursed relic out of his chest, throwing it as hard as he could at the opposite wall in one fell swoop.
It smashed, glass and metal pieces falling to the floor.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Optimus trembled. His optics didn't leave the relic, in fear of it crawling right back into his chest.
By now he'd long shoved himself into the farthest corner of the room, venting heavily.
It still hurt.
The sound of the door unlocking barely reached his audials.
"Optimus what-"
Ratchet froze, horror slowly flooding his optics as they swept the small berthroom.
Optimus couldn't look at him, he slowly lowered himself to the floor, venting raggedly and trying to hide his helm behind his arms.
This wasn't how he wanted to be seen. Or thought of.
The image of dream Ratchet laughing at his pain was his only relevant thought as he quietly squeezed himself farther into the corner.
He shouldn't have thrown the Matrix.
He shouldn't have bothered Ratchet.
"By Primus... what have you done...?"