Transformers Prime: Evolution

1. The Calling...

The rumble of the ship's engine hummed in the background, vibrating through the cold metal of the floor beneath my feet. I stood near the viewport, optics scanning the broken horizon of Cybertron's surface. The city of Iacon lay ahead, untouched by war but not untainted by the decay of politics and corruption. A sharp contrast to the outskirts, where the rot had already set in deep.

Behind me, I could hear ShrikeClaw pacing, restless as ever. His wings twitched, scraping the ceiling as he moved with that erratic energy that seemed to always fuel him. "This is it, ShadowDread," he muttered, excitement bubbling in his voice. "The storm's coming. You can feel it, can't you?"

I didn't answer. I kept my optics focused ahead, where the spires of the High Council chambers pierced the smog-filled sky like weapons. ShrikeClaw wasn't wrong—there was tension in the air, thick enough to choke a weaker bot. But I wasn't one for speculation. My role was clear.

Get Megatron and Orion Pax to the council. Nothing more.

RazorSpine, crouched in the shadows at the edge of the room, tilted his head slightly. His voice, calm and measured, broke through the silence. "Strange that Megatron—a gladiator, a warrior—would care so much about the High Council's opinion." He paused, his optics narrowing as if calculating every angle of the situation. "Politics aren't usually the battlefield of someone like him."

"Maybe," I said finally, my tone flat, "but this isn't my concern." My voice lacked any investment, and I kept my optics on the approaching skyline. RazorSpine had always been one to overanalyze. ShrikeClaw—he thrived on chaos. They were both effective, but it made them prone to distraction.

I, however, had no such weaknesses.

"Oh, it's your concern, whether you want it or not," ShrikeClaw grinned, flaring his wings with a slight screech. "You think this is just about politics? This is about war, ShadowDread. The caste system? It's crumbling. And when it does, there's going to be blood." His optics gleamed with anticipation.

"Blood is inevitable," I replied. "But that doesn't mean I need to care about the cause."

The door hissed open, and Soundwave entered, silent as ever. His presence filled the room with a quiet authority, his visor glowing in the dim light. Behind him, Megatron and Orion Pax followed. The tension increased tenfold with their arrival. Megatron's frame radiated power, a force barely contained beneath his metal skin. Every movement was deliberate, like a predator stalking toward its prey. His optics glowed with a simmering intensity, though his face remained impassive.

Orion Pax, by contrast, looked uneasy. His optics flicked nervously between Megatron and the rest of us, though he tried to maintain some semblance of calm. The data clerk was out of place among warriors, and he knew it.

"ShadowDread," Megatron's voice rumbled, deep and commanding. He barely acknowledged RazorSpine and ShrikeClaw as he stepped forward. "We are approaching the High Council. The mission is simple, but you already understand that."

I nodded. "Escort you and Orion Pax. Ensure safe arrival."

"Indeed." Megatron's optics bore into me for a moment, as if he could sense the detachment in my tone. But then he turned away, focusing back on the destination. "The Council believes they can control the future of Cybertron. Today, they will learn they cannot."

Orion Pax shifted uneasily beside him, his optics focused ahead. "Megatron," he said, his voice calm but tense, "we're here to present our case for change, not to threaten them."