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renaroo · 7 years

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Twisted Legacy (15/25)

Disclaimer: Transformers and related properties belong to Hasbro Warnings: Canon-typical language and violence, Psychological torture and horror, Post-war politics, Canon divergence/Loose canon, Hospitalization and illness, Cultist indoctrination Rating: T Synopsis: [Canon Divergence from MTMTE and exRID #54] The legacy of the Primes has had a tainted past, one that weighs heavily on Optimus, his supporters, and those who seek the legacy for the future. But as they look forward for themselves and for Cybertron, a darkness looms that threatens to further corrupt the unsteady peace of their planet with its curious claim to be the Hand of Primus himself.

It’s up to Optimus, Windblade, Rodimus, and their teams to try and save all Cybertronians from this mysterious threat and, perhaps, change the future for the better if they can.

A/N: I could try to give all the excuses for why it took so long to write this chapter and get it out for you guys, but ultimately I just have to say that I’ve had a really, really unreasonably tough month that has taken away from my time to write this story quite a bit. But, hopefully, the length of the chapter can somewhat atone for the sin of having left it for so long. Thank you all fo being so patient with me, it means a lot.

Special thanks to @secretlystephaniebrown, Isame, Snozzlefrog, and Squiggol for the feedback! I really appreciate it!

Part III: The Risk of Saving the Guilty Chapter 3.5: In the Public’s Best Interest

"You honestly just don’t know when to give up, do you?” Chromia asked in irritation. “Did you miss the part where you were thrown in jail for a few hours without due cause because of this maniac and how he runs this Primus forsaken planet?”

Windblade of course didn’t have to be reminded of such things. She had just watched her fellow delegates nearly give her a sentence for the very same injustice.

“I didn’t,” she answered Chromia instead, pushing on forward through the halls of the very capital that had been her prison just beforehand. “And persistence will never be a bad quality.”

“Too much of any quality can be a bad thing,” Chromia muttered, though it wasn’t lost on Windblade.

She knew she was pressing her luck. She had known that before she ever fully accepted her position at Cybertron for the Mistress of Flame and Caminus. Perhaps he had gone at these things with a certain naivety and self-righteousness. Maybe she had been knocked off her feet more than once by Cybertron and its ever incredulous leader.

But Windblade at least could not clall herself naive anymore.

“Things are only ever going to change around here if mechs like us refuse to allow the utter nonsense that is Starscream’s governing,” Windblade declared, finally leading them directly into the innermost chamber of Metroplex’s body and to the secreted away brain module.

“There is no way that Starscream won’t figre out where you’ve gone to if we’re here,” Chromia continued to object. “They’ll be on us in minutes.”

“I only need a few,” Windblade assured her, walking toward the console before the brain module. “Util then, I’d appreciate if you could watch the door.”

“Don’t I always?” Chromia sighed, producing her battleaxe and taking charge of the door.

Windblade smiled apologetically toward her friend before stepping up to Metroplex’s brain. “Hello, Metroplex. I’m sorry I haven’t been by recently.”

Wind-voice. he greeted her as usual. There was a note of hesitation before he continued. You are... upset.

Offering the Titan a gentle smile, Windblade reached toward the brain module and began to pull for the direct connection. “Frazzled more than upset,” she admitted. “But I’m hoping you can help.”

Help. I will. For Wind-voice.

“Please, Metroplex,” she said, connecting the line directly from his brain module to the side of her own helm, “let me see through your eyes. Help me search for someone who wishes to cause us all harm.”

The Titan seemed alarmed, if not exhausted, by the request. There was an understanding of the underlying danger and nervousness of his citizens that Metroplex had been aware of, but beyond that the specifics had eluded him until their linking.

Stop them, Wind-voice.

Windblade nodded. “I absolutely will, Metroplex. You know I will. We just have to find out where they are first of all. Can you help me?”

Immediately, security feeds throughout Metroplex’s system began popping up all around Windblade. There were more than she could reasonably get through herself, but fortunately her connection to Metroplex was giving her the ability to scan through them quickly enough.

It was like searching a Titan for any of the various system errors or pains it might have been feeling, but accelerated.

Metroplex was taking Windblade’s lead and specifically honing in on parties he had no innate connection with -- those who, in a sense, had not belonged to the city. That were foreign to him.

But the more their focus shifted to that concentration, the more feeds began to pop up. Dozens quickly became hundreds and suddenly they were both staring at unfamiliar faces all over the city.

Don’t know them, Wind-voice. Still mine, Wind-voice.

Her own head was throbbing and Windblade reached up to her mantle. “I know, I know,” she said out loud. “This is all wrong--”

Getting Chromia’s attention, the bodygard turned enough from her post at the door to look worriedly at Windblade. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“This, what I’m doing -- the way I’m doing it. It’s wrong,” Windblade explained, looking tiredly at Chromia. “Metroplex has become a hub -- a metropolitan between all of the city-states of Cybertron’s surviving population, of all the colonies. We are looking for those who don’t belong based on Metroplex’s relations to them, his familiarity, and all it’s doing is making everything muggier. None of us belong at the end of the day by that definition.”

“Find another way then,” Chromia replied, seemingly unaware of the problem truly at hand.”

“Chromia, you don’t understand,” Windblade said, exhausted already. “Think about the targets thus far. Think about Error’s actions. He’s out of place in Metroplex, maybe, but they aren’t the actions of an unfamiliar resident,” she said. “It’s not truly a colonist at work. These are the actions of someone familiar. Someone at home.”

Chromia crossed her arms. “You said that Metroplex doesn’t know him.”

"He doesn’t,” Windblade agreed. “I don’t... It doesn’t make sense, I know, but neither does trying to trifle through everyone on the streets and abusing that power when we have no indication that we’re even on the right lead. That’s something Starscream would’ve asked me to do if he wasn’t so sure that I was a part of this mess somehow.”

Chromia turned fully and tilted her helm. “But Starscream didn’t think of this. You did.”

“I know, and that scares me,” Windblade replied. She looked back to the Titan’s brain module before her. “I’m so sorry to have abused your power like that, Metroplex. I won’t do it again,” she promised before unplugging herself from the system.

“You’re not Starscream, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Chromia said without hesitation. “I know that look on your face -- that’s your look of I’ve messed everything up. You haven’t. There hasn’t been anything to mess up yet. So don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it?” Windblade asked critically, looking to her bodyguard and friend. “Chromia, don’t you remember when we spoke with Optimus before? When we talked about Shadowplay and mnemosurgery... how he said that their ethics were debatable? How horrified I was to hear that from not only someone we trusted but from someone who was a Prime?”

While she didn’t look convinced, Chromia apparently knew Windblade well enough to not continue the debate. “What’s the solution then? You need to find Error -- not just to save lives but to prove your innocence in all of this nonsense. How are we supposed to do that without crossing any lines?” She frowned, looking off with some amount of shame in her optics. “You would know better than me. I’ve crossed too many lines before. We both know that.”

Dropping her head, Windblade hugged her arms and tried to think.

Her optics flickered back up to Chromia as she had an epiphany. “Why was Rattrap so convinced that he saw myself and Rodimus -- someone I don’t even really know -- with Error? Convinced enough he went to Starscream and got him to act on it. Like he was genuinely afraid of what he had learned.”

Chromia gave the question a genuine frown. “Is it not enough to just assume that he has a name like Rattrap for a reason? He’s one of Starscream’s cronies plain and simple.”

“No,” Windblade said with an affirmative shake of her head. “It’s not that simple. Rattrap is in this for himself, not for Starscream. And for him to react to myself and Rodimus with the vitriol that he did is significant. It was genuine fear -- he believed that we were somehow involved and endangering the rest of Cybertron.”

“Then he’s a crony and an idiot,” Chromia replied defensively. “Where are you taking this thought train, Windblade?”

“To the next logical conclusion, Chromia,” Windblade answered She turned to Metroplex’s brain module and reached out to it softly once more. “Thank you, Metroplex. And I promise again to not abuse our relationship like that again. I trust you to do everything you deem necessary to protect all Cybertronian life.”

Wind-voice. Thank you.

Relieved, Windblade turned sharply and started back out the doors.

“Where are we going now?” Chromia asked.

“Following that thought!” Windblade answered zestfully before quickening her pace.

As familiar as she was with the capital, it did not take her long to lead them both exactly to the medlab that Ratchet had all but taken over from Knock Out and First Aid in the past few weeks. Chromia, always a speedster herself, didn’t miss a step, always shoulder to shoulder with Windblade the whole way.

Just as they reached the threshold, however, Optimus Prime himself was stepping outside of the room with Knock Out, of all bots, at his side.

“Optimus!” Windblade called out, getting the Prime’s attention as she came to a halt by him. “Is Rodimus in there? I need to speak with him.”

Knock Out released a sarcastic vent and rolled his wrist. “Good luck with that. There’s not much upstairs in that bot right now, if you catch my drift.”

“I do not think that is the best idea at the moment, Windblade,” Optimus said more gently. “At the moment, Ratchet is reconstructing a base frame for Rodimus, and against all of our suggestions, he has refused to be placed offline for the procedure. Rung, the psychiatrist, is sitting with him through the process and I do not believe the session should be interrupted. For anyone’s sake.”

“This is important, Optimus, I promise,” Windblade argued. “I’m trying to track down exactly why Rattrap thought we were agents of this cult.”

“Delegate Windblade, is that the wisest decision for you?” Knock Out asked, crossing his arms. “Given the close shave you nearly had before the Council and the fact that another honored delegate has accused of steep atrocities, I would assume you would do your best to keep your nose out of the investigation from this point on.”

"Sounds like Council meetings haven’t been enough to give you a real idea of who Windblade is,” Chromia half mocked.

Windblade ignored the two of them, instead focusing on the Prime. Optimus still seemed distant in thought -- more so than she had ever seen him before. And his dire attitude had not been improved by whatever business had taken him to the Lost Light and back.

“Optimus,” she said, stepping up to him. “If nothing else, I’d appreciate knowing your perspective on all of this. At the very least, you have more stakes and understanding of the elements and mechs involved than I do. I’d value your opinion more than any right now.”

He focused his optics on her for a moment, but they were not filled with the warmth of the Matrix.

“My opinion should not carry more weight than the others. Especially not now,” Optimus answered instead. “Please do not disturb Ratchet and Rung’s work at the moment, Windblade. I trust you to do whatever you deem right or necessary, but what they are doing right now with Rodimus is vital work. It may save Rodimus’ spark.”

He then continued to walk away, Knock Out reluctantly following behind him for some reason.

Chromia looked after them, helm tilted to the side. “Wonder what that’s about. Any ideas, Windblade-- Windblade? What are you doing?”

Settling on the floor outside the door, Windblade rested her back and wings against the wall. “Waiting until I get the clear to speak with Rodimus. I need answers. He seems to be the only one with anything close to them.”

Staring at her, Chromia shook her head. “You’re one stubborn bot,” the bodyguard sighed before taking a seat on the floor opposite to Windblade.

Sharing a small smile with Chromia, Windblade hugged her knees against her chest. “Thanks. You are, too.”

Ultra Magnus was no longer the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord, and his status as Second-in-Command was questionable given the general confusion of having Co-Captains. But he took his appointments, former and imagined, with a note of seriousness that would have turned lesser bots’ energon to crystals in their pipes.

And with one such Co-Captain down, Ultra Magnus had never been more affirmed in his duty helping to keep the Lost Light in functioning order.

Megatron sat back in his desk with servos stacked before his eyes. He seemed even more ancient and brittle than the war itself had ever made him seem. And that was after one of the few encounters between him and Optimus Prime that hadn’t come to actual blows.

“Is there anything you need me to do, Captain?” Magnus asked, nearly feeling as tired as Megatron looked.

“Yes,” Megatron answered without hesitation, actually managing to surprise Magnus some. “I need you to get Bainstorm in here. Quickly. Before I rethink anything.”

Confused, Magnus reached to his wrist so as to send out the communication. He waited a moment, looking to his exhausted leader. “Are you certain you wish to meet with Brainstorm? You have not met with him one-on-one.”

“And I will continue with that record, you are staying here, too,” Megatron ordered flatly. “Send it out.”

Allow a twitch of emotion to cross his faceplate, Magnus sent out the signal at last and shook his head firmly. “As you wish, Sir,” he replied flatly.

Considering the very public, very close to success, assassination attempt that Brainstorm had attempted on Megatron on their very ship with time briefcases and nonsense abound, it was not exactly a Luna One level mystery of Cybertron why Megatron had not had much contact with his would-be killer compared to the other survivors of the mutiny.

Which made the certain change suspicious, if nothing else.

There was apparently some hesitation at least on Brainstorm’s end as it took him more than thirteen minutes to get to the Captain’s office whereas Ultra Magnus had calculated multiple times that a bot of his make and model could have easily traversed the space from the science lab to them in at least nine minutes.

Given the circumstances, however, Ultra Magnus neglected to bring up the discrepancy.

“Uh, you asked for me?” Brainstorm asked cautiously, barely poking more than his helm into the room.

“Yes, now get in and shut the door behind you,” Megatron ordered impatiently.

Brainstorm glanced from the captain to Ultra Magnus warily, but there was little encouragement to be offered. Instead he simply did as was ordered and came barely into the office, just enough steps to bring in his wings before the office door shut behind him.

“Alright, guess you’re being serious about... whatever this is,” Brainstorm joked lightly with a turn of his wrist.

“I’m going to be curt with you, Brainstorm,” Megatron explained. “You were one of the least injured among the survivors on Eukaris. And your attempt on my life well before the mutiny is well known for its... elaborate nature and decades of planning.”

“Ooo-kay,” Brainstorm replied, tilting his helm. “Thank you? I guess?”

“Which is why you have raised my suspicions,” Megatron continued.

“What?” Brainstorm balked.

“Please know that any truthful reply to me at this point will not be met with reprimand but with honest consideration,” Megatron explained, red eyes flickering with meaning. “I wish no harm to you now than I did when it was first learned you were going back in time to undo my life and its work.”

“Is that supposed to be comforting?” Brainstorm asked flatly. “That’s just ambiguous enough that I can take it to mean you’ve really wanted to kill me since that day. Just saying. Maybe we should hash everything out before this conversation continues--”

“Sir, perhaps it would be best to allow me to work out some proper lines of questioning here,” Magnus offered. “I believe yours are... dubious at best--”

Megatron held up a hand and silenced them both, much to Magnus’ chagrin.

“We haven’t the time for double meaning, only answers, I assure you,” Megatron explained. “Brainstorm, have you at any time -- recently or in the past -- been approached by this cult which seems to be at the center of undermining our mission to find the Knights of Cybertron and undoing the very fabric of the peace back on Cybertron.”

For a moment, Brainstorm simply cycled his optics in disbelief, then he pointed at his own chest plate with a thunk. “Me?” he asked critically.

Somewhat stunned himself, Ultra Magnus leaned toward Megatron’s desk. “Sir, perhaps there is a better way to parse your question--”

“Perhaps, but there’s not a more direct way,” Megatron said without so much as looking Ultra Magnus’ way. “Brainstorm, I want honesty in your answer. No repercussions will come of the truth. You have my word.”

“Oh, that means a lot!” Brainstorm cried out, throwing up his arms. “Are you being serious right now? You think I would betray the ship? Betray Rodimus after everything? This is my home! And I almost lost it once on the Necrobot’s planet already!”

“Perhaps you were approached beforehand, your values have shifted,” Megatron offered. “Perhaps the group became more militant in your absence. You have played both sides before.”

Brainstorm’s optics narrowed and he yanked off his faceplate viciously, the tearing of metal causing Magnus to flinch. “You see any insignia or flames on this? I don’t even have the Decepticon brand anymore, I removed it the moment I was placed on probation on the ship. Sir.”

Ultra Magnus could feel the air growing stale once more, neither bot on both sides of the room willing to relent.

“Some marks can only be seen at the spark,” Megatron said simply in return.

“What are you fraggin’ getting at!?” Brainstorm demanded.

“Why were you left relatively unscathed? Why didn’t Starscream take the opportunity to arrest you? Why were you the only member of Rodimus’ away team which did not make it into the caves with them before the attack?” Megatron asked in rapid fire succession.

“If you’re trying to say something to me, Megatron, you need to say it directly to my face!” Brainstorm snapped back angrily. “I am not a traitor! I am not! And being accused by you, of all bots, is an indecency I can hardly muster!”

“And yet you know no bot has more reason to suspect,” Megatron replied darkly.

Having heard more than enough, Magnus stepped between the two of them clearly, holding his hands up. “This cannot be continued,” he said plainly. “It is inappropriate and unseemly.”

“You mean he is inappropriate and unseemly!” Brainstorm snarled, snapping his faceplate back onto his helm. “I’m done with this meeting if you are.”

“I have not received my answer yet,” Megatron said calmly.

“Frag you, Megatron,” Brainstorm growled, heading out the door in a brash fashion.

Flinching as the door slammed shut, Ultra Magnus then turned to his captain suspiciously. “Satisfied, Sir? I think given a few drinks at Swerve’s and one story to either Tailgate or Whirl and this entire fiasco will have alienated the entire ship from you.”

Megatron scowled. “Believe it or not, that was not the intention of the meeting,” he announced.

“I’d appreciate being informed as to what was the intention then,” Magnus replied dryly.

“We already turned the recordings over to Optimus Prime,” Megatron reminded him. “That much of the investigation is out of our hands. But we can still act on what we know. And what we know is that Brainstorm was not heard on those recordings.”

“That makes him guilty?” Ultra Magnus asked skeptically.

“That makes him a link, and if he is half the genius he makes himself out to be then he would understand that significance as well,” Megatron answered, denta gritting. “Nothing these menaces have done thus far has been without reason. And no one recognizes that more than myself.”

“I suppose not,” Ultra Magnus replied. “But do you think Brainstorm understands his significance even in that much?”

“Not after that exchange,” Megatron sighed. “That was honest. And Brainstorm does not seem to me to be quite a liar.”

“Only in matters of building time machines,” Ultra Magnus said dully.

“Careful, Magnus,” Megatron said, rubbing at his optics. “Rodimus might not take kindly to you growing a sense of humor while he was gone.”

If nothing else, Optimus could always rely on Starscream’s flare for theatrics.

He was suspicious from the moment he had been summoned by Cybertron’s appointed leader, after all there were few things that he and Megatron agreed on but not trusting Starscream had been high among them. But when he entered the room to a bleak darkness and found that the former Seeker leader was looking for a one-on-one, Optimus felt confidence flare up from his spark.

Starscream was hoping to corner him, but was more afraid of witnesses should he corner himself.

At the very least it meant that Windblade had been right in her suspicions. Though there was a morality question on whether or not to encourage her snooping any further.

There was definitely something Starscream was attempting to hide.

“Took you long enough,” Starscream snapped as soon as the door was closed.

“Apologies for any inconvenience,” Optimus Prime said with as little spark behind his words as possible.

Turning toward Optimus, Starscream shared what was becoming his characteristic, world weary scowl. “I already know it’s next to useless to ask you what you’ve learned from the expedition I sent you on to the Lost Light,” he said flatly. “Seeing as how your first instinct upon reaching Cybertron was to completely undermine my executive authority before the entire council.”

“Then I would say you do not understand my motives very well,” Optimus argued firmly.

“Oh, please,” Starscream sneered, rolling his optics. “Prime, there are few things in this or any other world a Cybertronian has ever stepped foot on that are less understandable than your nobility and motives. I’m certain you can explain away your motivations for assisting and defending a friend who got himself in over his head and found himself in the midsts of a plot to undo the very fabric and stability of our very unstable current society.”

Optimus let out a long vent and shook his head. Starscream had developed very little over his time as leader, even less so than Optimus had once dared to hope that he would.

The mech was incapable of accepting other points of view or reaching out for help in the idea of simple compassion and kindness.

A ruler not to be revered, one could argue very firmly.

“If there is nothing you would ask of me then I would rather make myself more productive and useful elsewhere, Starscream,” Optimus somewhat threatened. “I have much to discuss with the medical staff--”

“Oh, I’m certain you do,” Starscream mocked. “Seems everyone is suddenly very busy around your little second stringer protege.”

A flicker of anger quickly rose within Optimus and he turned to leer at the supposed leader of his planet, his home. But nothing came of it, though the reference to Bumblebee and the condescension toward Rodimus were not outside of Optimus’ grasp.

“A lot can be said about the allegiances we hold and in what order we hold them, Starscream,” Optimus said clearly. “I will not make apologies for where mine have come to lie.”

“Then let me make it abundantly clear, once again, just where mine lie, Optimus Prime,” Starscream snapped back. “Mine are with the good of Cybertron. And I am not above wickedness or betrayal of lesser goals to ensure that. That is what makes me the leader of this new world’s order rather than you. And the more savagery and chaos your presence and the presence of your followers brings to us, the longer my reign will flourish. Because if there’s one thing this world trusts less than me as a ruler, it’s war heroes who are still fighting.”

“That may be true,” Optimus admitted wearily, “but you were far from a bystander yourself, Starscream. And no one knows the scars of war and strategy as well as you. Which is why I know to come to you for this request rather than your council.”

Starscream hesitated, his fingers tapping against the armrest of his chair.

“You have me curious, I must admit,” he said lowly. “Do go on.”

“I believe that it is more and more apparent that this cleansing that Error and his cult have called for has to do with the Matrix and those who have bore it,” Optimus explained carefully. “I have reason to believe that it was the reason for targeting Rodimus psychologically, for targeting me physically, and for targeting you politically.”

For a moment, a flicker of surprise came across Starscream’s face before hardening into anger. “You believe I am targeted. Prime, if you have evidence of a conspiracy against me and you haven’t been forthcoming with it, then I will charge you with being part in that conspiracy--”

“It is apparent,” Optimus clarified. “These threats have done nothing for you politically, and I believe there is reason behind Windblade’s suspicion of you in regards to Error. And I believe that the three of us are connected by one thing.”

“Please, I wore the Matrix momentarily compared to the two of you,” Starscream scoffed. “That putz Hot Rod saw to that himself. Before Megatron put a hole exactly where that Matrix belonged. What an irony that they now serve together thanks to your intervention--”

“The amount of time would not matter to those radicalized enough to believe that a valid response to any perversion of Primus’ will is worth murdering and slaughtering over,” Optimus warned. “So if there are not any connections as Windblade suspects there are, I believe it would be within your best interest to keep it that way.”

Starscream narrowed his optics. “You have a plan, I presume?”

“I will use myself and the Matrix to draw out Error, somewhere away from the city’s population and away from the energon supplies to prevent any threats of spreading the disease they have weaponized,” Optimus proposed grimly. “In return, all that I ask is that there be more guards for the medical ward and for yourself.”

“For your fanboy and your enemy,” Starscream surmised. “How kind of you, Optimus.”

“I simply do not wish for Cybertron to fall into chaos without a decisive leader,” he clarified, He could only hope that his tone hid any disgust he still felt at his core from having to regard Starscream as such.

“I can grant it,” Starscream announced. “But you won’t be going alone on this suicide mission.”

“But--” Optimus began only for Starscream’s hand to come up.

“I’m sending another member of the Council to, at the very least, bare witness to this catastrophic idea of yours. You and I may not think much of the Matrix and those who have touched it, but you are correct about the sway it holds for others. In the unfortunate circumstances that you should fall, I would rather have someone I trust nearby to take the mantle for you rather than this genocidal maniac Error,” Starscream clarified.

“In that case, I will go with whoever you assign,” Optimus said regretfully.

“And while you are gone, I will do my best to uncover whatever evidence it is that you have been so keen on keeping from me that you found on the Lost Light,” Starscream warned, a clever smirk on his face. “So don’t think we’re done with these elating conversations just yet, Optimus Prime.”

“Neither of us should be so lucky,” Optimus responded grimly.

#writing #tf fic #TF: Twisted Legacy #Windblade #Ultra Magnus #Optimus Prime #Chromia #Metroplex #Knock Out #Megatron #Brainstorm #Starscream

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