Atonement

Transformation

Grogginess was the first signal that his sensors had detected. It took him a moment to fully realize that he was lying on his front and had sustained some damage but it was nothing that he couldn't handle. His optics were beginning to online as well as the rest of the systems in his body. A quick internal check and his reading noted that everything seemed functional for the moment, be it a bit slow but gradually returning to optimum ratings.

Megatron placed his clawed servos firmly on the ground below him before pushing himself up and moving his legs so he was crouched on a knee. His vision swam for a moment and he was about to tip to one side before he quickly placed a servo on his faceplates, steadying himself before he fell over. Once he got his barrings, he removed his servo and observed his surroundings.

Darkness reigned in this greyish-metal domain. Grooves and carvings were seen all around as well as various tubing and energon lines that seemed hollow. The ceiling above seemed neverending and the walls were arched inwards as if trying to protect whatever was inside this region. It seemed that this area was vacant, not a single spec of life to be seen nor a single trail of energon. It didn't take long for his memories to return and for him to realize his current situation.

He was inside the empty husk of Unicron's spark chamber.

He remembered. The confrontation. The battle. The unexpected but beneficial truce with the Autobots. The final stand against Unicron with the Prime fighting alongside him. He remembered.

Speaking of the Prime...

Scouring his surroundings again, his optics caught sight of smoke from a spot several distances away to his left. A prone body with familiar red and blue plating was prominent amongst the smoke and steam emanating from it, but those were the only features that he could see distinctly. The smoke proved to be an effective coat that obscured any significant details of the unconscious mech, but it did not matter. Megatron knew that mech even if he was covered completely in soot.

Smirking to himself, Megatron rose to his pedes to sneer at the fallen Prime. The mech in question had still not made any movement or sign of onlining.

"Teamwork." Megatron scoffed.

Releasing his large blade, he strode towards the fallen Prime, never taking his optics from the fallen mech. As he was honing in on his target he was already envisioning the final blow. The last strike that would finally put an end to his inexorable and longtime enemy- the bain of his existence and his cause. The opportunity was just within reach...

Then all of a sudden he heard a moan, but it was not created by the same deep, baritone voice of his old adversary. No. This was a soft, almost acute voice that carried a rich tune to it. He heard it again and this time he paused. This time the moan held a bit of a melodic tone to it, one that resonated with the warlord and brought back memories that he thought were forever locked away in his processor. Memories that brought an overwhelming feeling to his being, a sense of longing that he didn't realize still existed.

Despite his unsettled state, he saw movement from the previously stagnant form. It was then that he realized something was dreadfully amiss. First, the mech that was believed to be the Prime had a form that was significantly smaller than his previous warframe. Battle ready armor was replaced with smooth metal that contorted to elegant curves and soft lines that enhanced the protoform underneath. Tiny pedes and servos of a civilian mech replaced those of a larger warframe. Ultimately, this mech was not the same mech that he had been fighting for the past millennia. The mech that he fought with was a Prime; a battle-ready Prime that would stop at nothing to thwart his plans. This, this was not him.

Then as the smoke began to clear and the features became more prominent, Megatron suddenly had a clear view of the mech before him.

His processor halted...

And he stared with a mix of shock and disbelief.

It can't be...

Opening his cerulean optics, the dazed mech examined his surroundings. It was dark, thus making it difficult to fully gather specific details. The fact that his processor was still reeling didn't help either. Trying to catch his barrings, the mech shifted to his knees, placed his fisted servos on them, and closed his optics for a moment. When the dizziness finally stopped, he opened them and looked up- only to see a familiar warlord standing in front of him.

Whirling his optics wide open, the mech flinched back before memories suddenly resurfaced in his processor. He quickly clamored to his pedes and step back in apparent surprise.

"Megatron!!" He exclaimed.

Quickly scanning his surroundings once more, Optimus turned back to his nemesis.

"Did it work? Is Unicron finally defeated?"

The mech in question did not answer. He could not answer. He couldn't even fathom at the transformation that had transpired before him. Too lost in his own musings, he did not notice that the mech in front of him was slowly making his own realization.

It didn't occur to him at first, but Optimus perceived that something was wrong. Never had he seen his opponent in such a state before. The unriddled shock written all over his faceplates meant that something was horribly erring. He checked his surroundings again to see if he spotted something that he did not before, but nothing had changed. He turned back to his foe before he noticed something.

Optimus knew that compared to the Decepticon Lord, he was still comparably smaller than the warlord himself. Although their strengths are virtually the same, the warlord still had some advantages when it came to experience in combat, however that never stopped Optimus from putting up a good fight. Even now, despite these differences, they were each other's equals in power and ferocity. Currently, Optimus noticed that he no longer holds a similar standing as his nemesis. For one, he barely reached his chest plate, thus making the disparity in their heights much more jarring. When he replayed their current transaction, he realized that his voice was indeed different. It didn't have the same deep resonance as before. In fact, it was much softer and shriller.

He looked down at himself and gasped at what he saw. Small pedes and servos. A much leaner frame. No robust armor. No weaponry. This was not his frame. This was not Optimus Prime's frame. This was...

"No." He shook his helm in denial and started to invent heavily. "No. No. No. This...this can't be!!"

Grasping his helm, Optimus backed away. A sense of panic overwhelmed him for a moment. Thoughts of denial and disbelief raced in his processor as he tried to regain control of his venting. He tried to rationalize for a moment. Perhaps this isn't real. Perhaps this is some kind of recharge flux. He is still unconscious. This...this can't be happening. This is a recharge flux, nothing more. He will wake up soon. Yes, that's it. This is not real. He is Optimus Prime. He will return to his original frame and everything will be well. This isn't his frame. He is not...

"Orion Pax."

Snapping his helm up to look at his nemesis in shock. His optics widened at the remark as the realization hit him full force. He was indeed no longer in the frame of a Prime. He was no longer the symbol of leadership, of guidance to his leading faction. No. He was now in the frame of a simple archivist. A frame not worthy of any title of leadership or battle prestige. He was useless. He...

The sound of walls breaking and the feeling of the ground shaking suddenly broke his train of thought, and he and the mech before him turned towards the ruckus. The wall behind suddenly collapsed, causing debris and smoke to arise from the ruins. Amongst the shadows, they saw a large frame with a spherical ram attached to one of his arms. The rising soot caused by the crash allowed for only the outline of the frame to be seen but the deep voice that called out was unmistakable.

"Optimus! Are you okay?!" Resonated the voice of Bulkhead.

He and the other two Autobots suddenly ran towards the pair only to stop at the sight in front of them. The large warframe of the Decepticon Lord was apparent but the small mech beside him was unfamiliar.

"Who's that?" questioned Arcee, her brow ridges narrowing suspiciously.

This seemed to snap Optimus from his panicked state and he took a moment to calm himself before he answered the femme.

"Arcee, it is me," he said but his response did not satisfy the group.

"Who are you, and how do you know my designation?" Her weapons were drawn and she made no attempt at lowering them for a second.

Exasperated, Optimus knew he only had one option left but he was worried about the reaction that will resonate with the group. Still, he grudgingly gave his response.

"It is I. Optimus."

As expected, the three bots flinched back in shock before glancing at each other to make sure the others had heard the same. They didn't know what to think. This mech claimed to be their leader, but he looked nothing like the Prime they all knew and respected. Yes, he might sport the same colors but the frame was different. The only evidence that supported the possibility that this was indeed their leader was the faceplate that the mech had. It was uncannily similar to the Prime's, though it held a sense of youthfulness that their leader lacked. The Autobots were in an impasse, not knowing what to do or what action to take next.

The next few moments were filled with silence until the sound of whirling wind and crackling electricity in the background broke them all from their musings. A groundbridge appeared behind the pair, roaring in all its glory and beckoning any who dare enter its turbulent depths.

Up until this moment, Megatron was deep in his surprise to realize that the enemy had arrived, that now was the time to depart or better yet finish off his enemy once and for all, but he could not. He was too lost in his shock over the fact that the Prime was no longer a Prime at all. He was now the data archivist from Iacon. The mech that had once fought by his side before the crippling betrayal of the council.

This was not the way it was supposed to go at all. He was supposed to finish his opponent, the Prime. But to see the data archivist once again brought a halt to his sadistic plans. He should end him regardless. Cripple the Autobots where they could never recover, but...he couldn't. He couldn't end him, not like this at least. But to have the Autobots steal him away.....that was simply not an outcome he was willing to accept.

Left with few options, he made an unconventional decision.

One he would later question his processor for even thinking of such an outrageous idea.

He grabbed Optimus' arm before the mech even had time to react, pulling him to his side and jerking him towards the groundbridge. The mech gasped in surprise and stared in shock at the warlord for his actions but the Decepticon Lord paid him no heed. Turning back to the Autobots, Megatron unleashed several blasts that forced them to scatter and duck behind large debris for protection. Satisfied, Megatron looked back at his hostage and stared into his wide, horrified optics. Quickly jerking his helm away before he became lost in old emotions and memories resurfacing, he raced towards the groundbridge with all his might- and with the Prime in his grip.

Struggling, Optimus tried putting all the fight he could give, dragging his pedes and pulling back with all his force but it was simply futile. Megatron's iron grasp on his arm was too strong and his pedes could barely keep up with his pace without falling forwards. He looked back at his fallen Autobots and reached out to them with his only available arm in a silent plea for help.

He locked optics with the youngest member and the young mech's own optics widened when he saw the mech being dragged away by the enemy. He beeped loudly, calling out for his leader but he knew it was too late. Optimus was too far ahead. The Autobots would never reach him in time. In a last-ditch effort, Bumblebee reached out his own arm as if he could reach out and catch them before they got away.

The last thing he saw from his leader was the look of sadness that flashed in his optics, a look that struck Bumblebee's spark to the core. Then the groundbridge enclosed both the mech and the warlord behind them in a loud whoosh. Any traces of the groundbridge was the smoke that circled the spot where it had been seconds prior.

The Autobots were left in silence.