BETRAY ME

"Oh, it's taking over me now,
Mighty baby, untamed lover,"

⬵⤁

It was a mystery as to how the events of Ratchet's memories could play out in a movie-like fashion for all to see, but that was the least of Jack's worries at this point. Instead, he just stared at the screen in horror, barely able to process what he had just witnessed.

Cybertron had been beautiful, that part was undeniable. What shocked him to the core, however, was Ratchet's role within the corrupted society of the planet. He worked for the Senate, was their medic; the monsters that brainwashed anyone who got in their way had been Ratchet's bosses. The memory also revealed the 'bot's previous stance on functionalism, an advocate for the "form dictates function," when Jack had assumed he was against it.

The betrayal dug a hole in his heart, though he tried to be reasonable. Surely Ratchet had since changed, and now fought for a peaceful resolution, as the Autobots had claimed before. 

The realization that this was a war he had no actual business being a part of hit him, stabbing him in the chest. Miko, Raf, and himself, along with Agent Fowler, had just taken Optimus Prime's word when he told them about the history of Cybertron and the reason for the war that tore their world apart. Sure, they could be seen as the good guys for protecting humankind, a species Megatron would not think twice about destroying, but what would happen once they won?

Would Cybertron actually change for the better? Or would it just settle back into its old ways? Orion Pax - Optimus - seemed to want to change Cybertron for the better . . . but the seed of doubt was planted in Jack's mind.

Stewing on the questions which plagued him, the teen looked back up at the screen, trying to ignore the constant staring of Soundwave, and occasionally Knock Out, the latter taking great delight in his discomfort. The Decepticon lord certainly was cunning.

Soundwave carefully continued running the translation protocol, the memories from Cybertron's past strictly spoken in the Cybertronian dialect, which he easily converted to English for the human. Megatron had wanted Jack to witness the medic's break, but this was also advantageous; he would now see the truth behind his Autobot friends.

⬵⤁

"Are you nervous?"

"Why should I be nervous, Orion?" Megatron gazed at the archivist with an amused look in his optics. "I have faced down beasts much more terrifying than a room full of corrupt Council members. And with my amica endura at my side, what have I to fear?"

Orion smiled at that. The normally reserved mech was noticeably a bit fidgety, taking several intakes to calm his overheating processor. Megatron certainly could not blame him; he was used to the winding labyrinth of the Archives, where he could disappear for hours on end and not be disturbed by another Cybertronian, save for the gentle Alpha Trion. The gladiator was used to a life of hustle and bustle, in contrast it was the quiet was what gave him the most anxiety.

"It is almost time. I am ready when you are," the archivist announced, his faux confidence nearly convincing.

Megatron strode into the High Council room, his optics burning with determination. Orion Pax walked beside him, the young mech moving forward and approaching an elder Cybertronian.

"Alpha Trion, this is Megatron of Tarn, a former miner and gladiator from Kaon, now politician. He is the one I have been speaking to you about for some time."

"Yes, the . . . visionary," Alpha Trion focused his gaze on the former gladiator. Something about the look gave Megatron chills, the wizened Cybertronian seeming to gaze straight into his spark and read every line of personal code he contained within his frame. "And also the radical protester."

Insult sparked in Megatron's optics. "Those who call themselves Decepticons and yet ignore my plead for a peaceful solution are no followers of mine," he kept his voice even, yet it was a struggle. "I only speak so that my voice may be heard. The actions of those who hear it cannot be controlled by me."

Alpha Trion looked at him for a long time, then settled back in his chair as his pale optics swept across the rest of his fellow High Council members. "Then allow your voice to be heard, Megatron. Tell us what makes your Cybertron a better Cybertron."

Orion stepped back as the attention focused on Megatron, who did not even dare to flinch as all optics trained on him. He was used to the attention, the judgmental looks and the disgusted sneers. In all of Cybertron's history, only he was brave enough to bear the Fallen's forbidden name, Megatronus, and carry it with him. Even his movement, the Decepticons as they were called, were an ode to the traitorous Prime. But he felt it was fitting.

If speaking the truth is deception, then I am gladly guilty.

"First and foremost: thank you, High Council, for agreeing to meet with me," he said, placing a servo over his spark chamber. "I understand my position and rise to the political field is unorthodox, but, I am an unorthodox mech. I ask that you keep an open mind as I share my views on the current Cybertronian political system, and the functionalist society in which we live in.

"In a city like Iacon, the cries of the forsaken and the oppressed do not reach the audio receptors of the common people, but that is not to come as a surprise. Iacon is a city of wealth and prestige, much like Vos or Polyhex. There is a bubble which protects the city from understanding the turmoils of the lowest of the lower caste. Even the natives of Rodion would not understand unless they came from its underbelly, where the untouchables roam and drugs are rampant. But I ask you this: what does make one untouchable?

"Is it the lack of their function? Or perhaps their form? What makes a mech, who might otherwise possess intelligence, lesser than those of equal IQ but with a determined purpose in the cogs of Cybertron's machinery? I have the frame of a miner, denied my own transformation cognition until I built my own machinery from the scraps of Kaon and fought in the gladiatorial ring, where I bought my upgrades as I bore witness to the intense discrimination. A willing donor, one who passed before his time, gave me a T-cog, our defining biomechanism, and allowed me to finally understand what it meant to have a purpose, to have an alternate mode which could then determine my place in this world.

"And yet, the feeling was brief, and quite frankly insignificant. I have met many a mech with talents outside of that of his destined place. A mech designed for simple telecommunications is now one of the greatest technicians I know, able to access virtually any computer or data pad remotely. One of your very own Senators is a budding scientist. A surgeon, with a penchant for art and beauty and the fine servos to detail, is restrained to his work by the same thing society has told us all: your form is your function. No other.

"Who has the right to deny them, or anyone, from pursuing their own interests and desires? We have become stagnant, products of a Golden Age that we thought would last forever, until we stopped pursuing the goals of the species and instead focused on the goals of our selves. We have begun the oppression of those deemed lesser than us because we cannot stand to believe anyone should be different! Our kind has stopped improving because we have begun to squash and terminate anything that is considered 'unnatural,' hiding talents as if they are sins, not traits to be proud of. But to that I say, we are wrong."

He paused, speaking the words from his spark and his mind. Yet, with each passing moment, he realized they were not listening. Alpha Trion had since turned his attention away from him to speak quietly with another mech, and though his optics remained trained on the gladiator, he was clearly bored. So were the other Council members, one of which even dared to yawn in his presence. Only Senator Shockwave seemed to have any interest.

And Orion Pax, dear Orion Pax, was enthralled with every word. He was latching on to them as if they were cubes of energon, taking in every word as he always did. He wanted this change as much as Megatron did. With at least two pairs of optics still trained on him, he continued.

"Cybertron must change. Our ideologies, our beliefs, must change. Functionalism may have segwayed us from the Great War to this Golden Age, but it should not be the segway from an age of gold to one of rust. You all know better than I that the Senate is corrupt, and that must change! Allow the people to truly choose who they trust to lead them, to rule over Cybertron and usher in a second Golden Age. Abolish the laws of functionalism, allow a mech to pursue their desires and wishes, and we will see an exponential growth in our technology, our medicine, our people -"

"What you are suggesting is anarchy!" He was suddenly, violently interrupted by a Council member. "To do away with laws will lead to chaos!"

"Only if you wish to breed chaos," Megatron replied darkly, insulted by the interruption. "Abolishing functionalism does not have to happen overnight. Replace the laws with those a common mech would most certainly follow. Or have we forgotten that 'do not kill' is a common basis for many of species, organic and not?"

"And how do you propose we allow the people to chose? If we put it to a vote we could have hundreds of draws!" Another Council member argued in return. "Do you suggest we just pick and choose those outside of the Council, with very little political background, to represent our people? They will be eaten up alive!"

Megatron clenched his fist. "There are many mechs with hidden talents and intelligence," he was trying his hardest not to snap. "I know that many of them are quite clever. Take Starscream of Vos for instance; he is far from an official politician, and yet he must be given a substantial amount of credit. He is very quick and precise at a game of wits and is far more intelligent than many give him credit for."

"You speak of that snake as if he is a good representation of what you stand for," the first Councilmech growled.

"That is enough, both of you," Alpha Trion settled his gaze on Megatron. "You do understand, Megatron, that what you speak of will upset the higher caste greatly. That will make many political enemies out of you. I would also point out that such a thing will take many, many years and many, many debates. I ask, are you willing to expend that much energy to realize your future Cybertron?"

How dare he. After not even listening, much less paying attention, the great and knowledgeable Alpha Trion not only mocked Megatron for his apparent lack of political prowess, but also challenged his ability to remain ahead. Megatron had spent years fighting for his life in the pits of the mines and that of the Kaonian gladiatorial field; to say he had no patience was an insult.

"I am willing to do what it takes," he snapped, finally, snarling a little. "Be it within the next year or next millenia. I have fought and shed energon to be in this very position, and I will fight and shed energon again if I need to free my fellow mechas from oppression!"

His declaration sent a ripple across the Council room, exciting whispers and gazes of concerns that were of no worry to him. He instead glared at Alpha Trion, this mech that Orion Pax spoke so highly of and yet did not even impress him in the slightest. The librarian was just like the others, old and weak.

"You dare declare war against us?" The mech from before asked.

"I dare to do what no one else on Cybertron would ever conceive of doing!" He looked at each and every mech in turn, making optic contact with them all even as the cowards did not meet him. "If what it takes is to usurp every one of you from your throne of shanix and lies, then I will do exactly that! I have climbed on the backs of the slaughtered before, it is not a foreign feeling to me!"

"Violence is not the answer!" His verbal rampage was stopped in his tracks by someone unexpected. Orion. "Yes, it has done much for us in the past, but there is always a peaceful alternative to doing things. We have already celebrated many years without conflict, let us not end it."

The nods he received from the Council infuriated Megatron. What did he think he was doing?

"I have studied Cybertron's history for many years," Pax continued. "And there is a trend I have seen throughout all of time: we thrive when there is peace. The caste system is unjust, that I can not disagree with. But the Senate, the High Council, these are necessary tools that should not be discarded. The people should be given a voice, one that can be granted through a series of votes. Let them choose their representatives. Run elections if you must but qualifiers should be constructed. These of which can be developed and refined over time.

"We should live as a united Cybertron, not as a divided. And I believe we can achieve that . . . I believe we can all live together with peace through the Allspark."

Megatron gazed at him, baffled. Was that not what he was trying to say? Orion had taken his words straight from his mouth and made them his own.

Alpha Trion looked at his pupil with approval. "I have been told many a time that you, Orion Pax, possess the traits of a true Prime. And I see that you have demonstrated that all too clearly today."

"No!"

Orion turned in surprise to see his friend, Megatron, baring his denta and glaring seethingly at the head of the Council. Of all the mechs, he was certain the former gladiator would have agreed.

"I am the one who desires to change Cybertron! I am the one who has demonstrated his worth as a Prime here today!" He argued.

"You have demonstrated nothing but violence and greed, Megatron," Alpha Trion seemed to be scolding him. "You are not fit to carry the title. Just as your namesake was not."

"How dare you -" He looked at the young archivist. "Orion, they are using you. If you accept the title, they will only use you as a pawn -"

"Lies! Decepticon lies!" A Councilmech howled. "You, Megatron, are the one which seeks to manipulate and deceive here today with the Council! We see your true colors, and we deny you any right to the title of Prime."

The gladiator snarled, glaring up at Alpha Trion.

"If you will not give it to me, then I will take it for myself!"

The threat echoed and rang out through the large chamber, the last words leaving his glossa before he turned around, storming toward the exit. Insults and anger swirled through his processor, their words cutting into him like knives. He should have known this was coming, he should have seen it. Ever thinking the Council would do anything except line their own pockets with wealth was a foolish hope.

"Megatron . . ." Orion called to him, but he ignored the mech.

The archivist had betrayed him, his spineless words catering exactly to what the corrupt Council wanted to hear. The pain twisted and drove deep into his frame. Orion was supposed to have his back at every turn; the only mech who could ever understand his pain and the suffering of the lower caste. Instead, it had all been a lie.

Ratchet watched as the young Megatron stormed from the room, already aware of what was going to happen next. He just stared at the scene, realizing with a sickening feeling that none of this could have possibly been altered.

"And now you see, medic," Megatron placed a servo on his stunned shoulder. "That it was the Council who forced my hand, and I had to resort to changing Cybertron for the better as quickly as I could. But by then, their lies had already reached Orion Pax."

"You threatened bloodshed."

"I only threatened their current existence as leaders in position of power," Megatron faced him, his denta bared. "And due to that they denied me what would have otherwise been a peaceful restoration of Cybertron to its former glory. Violence was a last resort."

The hesitation within Ratchet told him that what the medic had witnessed was greatly disturbing, perhaps even life-changing for him. For so long he had sought to defy Megatron at every turn, believing his leader to be in the right for everything that had happened before the War for Cybertron broke out. And now . . .

"You follow Optimus without question, taking his words as truth and not thinking about the reason you are fighting by his side," Megatron turned his back on the medic, taking a few calculated steps away within the dreamscape. "While I am challenged at every turn. I work twice as hard to earn respect from those who serve me, while you Autobots obey your leader with hardly a protest. Even when you doubted me, Ratchet, you seem to forget that I knew Orion Pax better than anyone else - even you. And now you know what truly happened that day."

"Optimus would never lie to me," he protested weakly.

"Perhaps not. But have I ever lied to you?" Megatron glanced back at him, the barest hint of a smirk on his faceplate. "I tell you the truth. I give you reasons to believe me. Surely that is worth something, even if I may be a Decepticon?"

Ratchet shook his helm. "Stop it," he hissed. "I know you are only perverting reality to fit your own agenda! Your mind is twisted, and it is affecting me!"

"Hardly the case," the warlord bent down to make optic contact directly with the Autobot at his own height. "You are finally understanding the truth, Ratchet. One that only I can give you in its full, raw form. I will not flinch away like Optimus. You deserve to know everything; and that is what I intend to give you."

He straightened again, glancing around in the darkness once more. "I believe you and the organic have seen enough; for now. You may not have shown me your base, but I will find that information soon enough; even if I have to pry it out by force."

The medic laughed bitterly. "No matter what light you attempt to portray yourself in, you are still a monster!"

Megatron merely laughed, the sound seeming to reverberate through Ratchet's skull. The world warped around him once more, and then the medic felt the feeling of being pulled through a small tunnel again. He gave a cry of panic, trying to keep his footing and failing miserably.

After that, there was nothing.

⬵⤁

Jack scrambled to his feet as the cortical psychic patch hissed offline, Megatron coming too first and placing a servo against his helm. Knock Out wordlessly did a quick scan to ensure all was well with the pair, communicating with his lord in the awful clicks and scrapes of Cybertronian.

"I would not call that much of a success, my liege," Knock Out sounded almost disappointed.

"He is proving more resistant than I originally anticipated," Megatron stood with a growl, glaring at the prone form of the medic. "He is wearing, but so is my patience. If he continues to be persistently defiant, I have another method of compliance in mind."

Dreadwing stepped forward. "My liege, we were lucky to retrieve the Star Saber from Optimus Prime before he could use it. I would not test our luck any further by waiting for his medic to give up pertinent information. We should strike while the Autobots are weak."

"An astute observation, Dreadwing," Megatron eyed Ratchet, then glanced over at Jack, who looked terrified and confused. "Very well. Return the organic and the medic to their cell. Knock Out, I wish to perform a few . . . test runs before I settle on a method of approach for this next phase."

"Of course, my liege," Knock Out bowed.

Jack gave a single shout of resistance before he was picked up by the ever-silent Soundwave, struggling in the thin Decepticon's grip. Dreadwing had the unconscious Ratchet unbound from his table, picking up the medic by his remaining good arm and swinging him over his shoulder.

"Let me go! What are you planning to do with us?" Jack pushed against Soundwave's fingers. "Let go!"

"Silence, pest," Dreadwing shot him a nasty glare. "You will be returning to your cell with the medic."

Jack stilled in his useless attempts to move, panting softly in exertion. He looked over at Ratchet with a mixture of emotions waging in his head, ranging anywhere from hurt to pity. Megatron had revealed a sliver of their history together, one that was much more complicated than Jack could have ever guessed. But it said a lot about Cybertron, what had happened. Megatron had been betrayed by Orion Pax, the gladiator not given a lick of attention even while he pleaded for an improvement to his homeworld. It was only after the Council revealed they were not even considering his movement did he snap, and began doing what he did best: fight. Orion took the words from Megatron's mouth and made them his own, earning favor with a Council that did not even care.

Optimus did not rise to power because he was great. He became a Prime because he was manipulatable. The High Council saw an opportunity and they took it. Perhaps over time Optimus did become a great Prime with a great spark, but then . . . when Megatron had been painted as the villain in all of Cybertronian history . . .

His head swam and he felt sick. What did Ratchet think about all of this?

He would soon find out, as they were quickly thrown back into their cell and virtually forgotten about, left to wait as Megatron plotted for his next big plan. Ratchet was still offline from the patch . . . but honestly, Jack preferred it that way. He did not want to confront the medic, not yet. The human was unsure if he could face him with the knowledge he currently possessed.