Chapter one.

Decepticons Rising

The story began in the most innocuous of ways. No Primes that turned into tractor trailers, no treacherous, screeching commanders, no Earth.

No Autobots. No Decepticons. Just the mine.

The smell of steel. It permeated everything. To a human it would be overwhelming, but this wasn't Earth, and humans wouldn't exist for eons. This was Cybertron. Home of the transformers. A sentient mechanical race, one that valued function, technological advancements, and scientific research.

It was the first part of that, which seemed to cause problems. Functionism was the law of the land in Cybertron, as instituted by the Senate, which was led by Sentinel Prime.

Primes had complete authority, with the senate, he had brought along a golden age. Vorns and vorns of prosperity.

For some.

C-12 mine. It had been dug deep into the ground, and used to extract solid energon and minerals. And it was here that the crushing hardship of the so called 'golden age' was felt.

The mechs here were sparked with the bodies of miners, they had no choice in their career. They were paid little. They were as close to unofficial slaves as a society could find.

Megatron let out a groan as his drillbit hit a rock. It let out a horrible grinding noise and sheared. He sighed, pulling his arm back. The drillbit, bent and broken, hung from a slot in his arm. "Damn." He muttered. Irritation. He was probably going to catch grief for this later, he tended to burn through drillbits.

"Tore through another one?" Terminus asked. He grimaced upon seeing the mangled bit, and unplugged his own. "Take this."

Megatron shook his head, the light on the mine ceiling glinting off his yellow construction tape that wrapped around his bucket shaped helmet. "I've taken enough of yours. You're not taking another beating for me."

"I'll take as many beatings as I have to." Terminus replied wholeheartedly. "I'm old, Megatron. I've given my whole life to these mines, they've already beaten the fight out of me. Don't need them beating it out of you." He unplugged his drillbit and began installing it on Megatron's arm.

Megatron smiled meekly. "I've never even been in a fight. There's no fight for them to beat out of me, old man."

"Perhaps. But when I read your writings...your words are your warriors." Terminus said. "They fight for you."

Terminus was the oldest mech in this mine. He'd been on just about every mine across cybertron. He and Megatron shared a chassis type and he had quickly taken the surprisingly bright young miner under his wing. He was the spiritual leader of the mine, one all the miners seemed to look up to, no matter where he went.

Megatron began drilling again. "It's tougher than usual today, isn't it?" He said with mild annoyance.

"Oh it's nearly impossible. We're under the Neandrah plateau, the metal is only going to get harder."

"Stop whinin' and drill!" A red and black minibot muttered, driving a drillbit that was taller than him into the ground. "They'll cut our energon rations again, you know they will."

"Rumble's right." Terminus agreed. "We need to keep drilling." He turned and looked for a drillbit, while Megatron felt a twinge of guilt at taking his, and began driving the drill into the metal wall.

"You still doing all that writing huh?" Rumble asked, sparing a quick glance in the mechs direction.

Megatron nodded. "Yes, best not to speak of it."

"What?" Rumble stopped drilling for a moment. "It's writing. People write stuff, News stuff, Datapads, somebody wrote them, right? I mean I'd appreciate it more if I could read, but what goods in gonna do me in this damned cave, huh?" He turned and began drilling again.

Megatron chuckled lightly. "You know what Rumble? Maybe one day I'll teach you how to read." The small red and black 'bot didn't get to answer him.

"You! Tank treads!" A deep, raspy voice barked from the entrance of the mine. "Unplug the drillbit."

Megatron turned around, and saw two black and white mechs walking towards him.

They were carrying guns. Large guns. Fear flashed over the miner, he took a single step back but stopped, getting ahold of himself.

Cops in the mine was a rarity.

"Alright." Megatron said, hiding the twinge of fear he felt. He unplugged the drillbit swiftly, and places it on the ground. "Is there anything you need, officers?" He asked.

"Yeah. We need to have a word. Do you have any weapons on you, miner?" The first officer responded gruffly, eyeing the mech closely.

"No sir." Megatron replied quickly. "I am unarmed."

The second officer walked up and grabbed the mechs arm. Though Megatron was larger than both mechs, he was intimidated. Both were professionals, their demeanor gave that away. Both were armed with rifles, and the symbol of the senate on their chests, like an alternate badge.

In other words, these weren't just cops.

Terminus walked over. "Can I ask where you're taking him?"

"Nowhere is where they're takin him." Rumble said, threateningly, walking towards the two officers, banging his little metal fists together.

Terminus grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him backward. Minibots were practically considered second class citizens, the police would not be tolerant of his resistance.

"Central Iacon." The officer replied. He eyed Rumble. "Got something to say, cassette?"

Rumble flinched, the words were spat out, venomous, full of hate and prejudice. Anger built up in the mech but Terminus pulled him back towards his drill.

"I'm cooperating." Megatron assured them. The two officers dragged him away, and Terminus watched them go, narrowing his optics as they left.

"And you! Old mech! Find a drillbit!" The other officer commanded.

They drove in a paddy wagon mech, a mech with a t cog upgraded for mass displacement. Mass displacement was something fewer and fewer seemed to be sparked with, and most of the time it was held in very high regard.

The wagon carried a nervous Megatron and the two police mechs toward the center of Iacon. The Citadel. Where the government operated. It was here that the senate, Prime, and a large amount of the city police were staffed.

Megatrons hands were unshackled but it was made very clear that this trip was not optional. The two officers made very little optic contact, and as soon as they stopped, the ramp lowered, and he was pulled from the vehicle, which transformed behind him, into a rather heavyset mech. He was brought into the building, past police mechs, and shackled criminals, down a brightly lit hallway toward a room.

They sat Megatron down in a chair and then left the room.

It was a wait. Megatron sat still, wondering what exactly was coming. And whether or not this was about his writing. It was supposedly anonymous... Had he been compromised?

The door finally slid open and a large mech walked in. His very presence confirmed all of Megatron's fears.

The large yellow and red mech that strode in was Sentinel Prime.

The Sentinel Prime. He stood opposite Megatron.

"Do you know why your here?" The mech asked.

Megatron folded his arms. "I...don't think I should be here. I'm just a miner."

Sentinel looked at a datapad. "Megatron. Born in Tarn. Mining body, turns into a non combat tank." He looked at the mech. "Writes some...very interesting literature."

It was like a bomb dropped in Megatron's fuel tank. He nodded nervously.

"Yes, but that's more of...a hobby. I don't really mean any of..."

"Oh no, don't sell yourself short." Sentinel Prime said, placing a servo on his shoulder. "Your writing comprehension is...excellent. Especially for a miner. Who taught you?"

Megatron rubbed the back of his neck. "I am self taught. In my downtime I would teach myself words..."

"Sounds like you may have a bit too much downtime. We need productive miners after all. But good on you for learning." He said, his voice dripping with false warmth.

Megatron looked away, his face looking extremely uncomfortable. Everything about Sentinel Prime radiated unpleasantness. He was trying to make Megatron squirm.

"What...did you think?" Megatron asked quietly.

Sentinel turned back and looked at him, like a predator whose prey had been baited.

"Oh I thought it very interesting. There was a part I found somewhat...disturbing. But overall an excellent read." He sat down across from Megatron. "Free elections." He said.

Megatron nodded. "The galactic council have had them on various homeworlds in the gamma sector, and they've had great success..."

Sentinel grinned. "I see you...read a lot as well." He said, with a confirming nod. "Free elections of senators...well it would certainly make the senators job harder." He looked Megatron in the optics. "And the people get to vote? Fliers, racers, miners, delivery drivers, starships, all able to vote...it sounds problematic. What if they make a wrong choice? An uninformed choice? I frankly think that the idea of allowing the common mech to vote is rather dangerous, don't you?"

Megatron sighed, venting harder than usual. "Well..."

Sentinel stood up, and grabbed Megatron by the throat and lifted him up. Megatron's optics widened in shock, terror like he'd never known coursed through his frame.

"And who would they blame?! Me! The Prime!" He slammed Megatron against the table. Megatron felt his backstruts buckle under the sudden and heavy pressure, before he could recuperate, he was being lifted.

"And I would tell them, well it was Megatron of Tarn's idea. His great contribution to our golden age." He drove Megatron against the wall.

Megatron tried fighting back, struggling in the Primes grip. Desperation set in. The Prime's grip seemed unbreakable. He felt like a fool, writhing around to no avail.

"You have the physique of a fighter. But the mind of a coward." Sentinel taunted. "Do you know how easily I could extinguish you?" He dropped the mech, who landed on his aft. Energon leaked from new dents in his throat.

"I want to." He said, cold hatred in his blue optics. "Just cut the head off the snake of your dangerous rhetoric. But your death would be hard to cover up. You have so many readers after all." He sneered. "So instead I'm going to send you to hell, Megatron. I'm going to send you somewhere where your words will be forgotten." He suddenly punched Megatron across the face, sending some energon splattering across the wall. Megatron steadied himself with a servo to the nearest object, he gripped his bleeding nose.

"And you will remain there until you remember your place. Tomorrow you will leave for Messatine. The mining colony there could certainly use your skills. You will not be permitted a datapad, you will not receive or send transmissions from anyone. You will be a good, productive miner, yes?!"

Megatron was panting hard. He looked up at Sentinel with terrified optics. Then he looked down at the floor and nodded.

Sentinel leaned down and glared into his optics, tilting his helm up to force the miner to look at him. "Say it."

"Yes." Megatron said quietly, defeated.

"No. What will you be?" Sentinel demanded.

Megatron was on the verge of a breakdown. He put his head down.

"I will be a good, productive miner..."

"Excellent. We have another miner for Messatine." Sentinel stood up, looking mighty pleased with himself. "Guards! get him out of here."

The guards came in, and lifted the slightly dented mech up, and walked him out.

As he walked, a blue and red police mech watched him, optics curious, then horrified as he saw the condition of the mech. He looked down at a datapad with one of Megatron's readings on it.

"Fascinating." Orion Pax said aloud.

[Edited by ThemSoundWaves.]