To bolster his argument, Dreadnought cast a series of images across the holographic screens that encircled the chamber. Each display featured a Decepticon prominently, accompanied by a full criminal dossier, an extensive and unsettling record of documented crimes committed across the planet.
Naturally, those images, bearing detailed records of crimes and accusations, were not confined to the grand temple alone. They were broadcast in real time to viewers across the entire planet, spreading shock, fear, and outrage with each new face revealed upon the screens.
Young Cybertronians wearing Decepticon emblems glanced at their comrades, recognizing some of those exposed for their crimes. Disappointment and even shame washed over them. They had been ready to fight for Cybertron's future, but to side with bots guilty of such horrors felt obscene, as if the entire cause were a cruel joke.
A few of the named Decepticons stood their ground, but could not hide the discomfort they felt under the accusing stares of their peers.
Dreadwing, too, watched the reactions of the Decepticons and the crowd outside the temple and noted the spark of doubt taking root in so many minds.
"Dreadnought aims to fracture the Decepticons by making us question the very morality that binds us together," Dreadwing murmured to himself, forgetting that Knock Out stood at his side.
"Well, I'll admit, he's masterful with words," Knock Out replied, unexpectedly struck by the power of the High Council's rhetoric.
"Lord Megatron is losing this debate. He needs to play the same dirty game," Starscream grumbled, furious at being cast as nothing more than a common criminal in public view.
Of all who felt anguish, none suffered more than Orion. Seeing the litany of crimes committed by some of the very bots Megatron had welcomed into his ranks, some he'd even chatted with minutes before the council convened, felt like a knife in his spark.
"D... working with these kinds of people just to achieve your goals... is wrong," he whispered to himself. Disappointment showed on his face.
Dreadnought, ever watchful, caught Orion's pained expression. He knew nothing of the archivist's past, but he understood that such disillusionment could be exploited and he would exploit it without mercy.
Raising his hand, Dreadnought signaled to the camera to focus on the young archivist. "Boy, state your name."
Startled, Orion's voice trembled as he answered under the glare of a million optics. "M-My name is Orion Pax. I am an archivist at the Iacon Library."
Dreadnought narrowed his gaze, suspicious of the small blue-and-red bot. He hadn't expected the old Prime's pupil, once hiding in the library, to become Megatron's escort.
Though Orion appeared harmless, Dreadnought knew better than to underestimate the apprentice of a Prime.
"As an archivist," Dreadnought continued, "you understand better than anyone how perilous Megatron's actions are, steeped in a hypocrisy only a truly malevolent mind could deny." His tone dripped with accusation. "Do you condone Megatron's ideas?"
The question, laced with malice, was an obvious trap, like a lit beacon marking a pit lined with stakes ready to impale him.
Megatron turned to his brother, knowing Orion shared his vision for change. But now, as the methods of his revolt lay exposed, Megatron realized his brother's faith might falter.
Orion remained silent, feeling his spark flutter. He knew he needed to respond, but he was afraid of the consequences. He longed to support D, but the small ember of doubt that the council's revelations had ignited in him made it impossible to utter the words Dreadnought expected.
"I desire a new tomorrow for Cybertron." Orion looked at D and saw his red eyes, which used to be blue and reflect a genuine desire to do things the right way. "I won't lie: my hopes for a new Cybertron are selfish, even impossible to realize as my dreams show me. Yet my desire for change cannot condone the wrong methods."
Megatron's stern expression flickered at Orion's words. He unconsciously clenched his fists, a cold unease stirring in his spark.
"D… is what they showed true? Have you stooped so low to achieve what we desire?"
"To find a cure for a disease, one must know how it works and spreads, Orion." Megatron maintained his composure, radiating an almost oppressive aura. "The ends justify the means."
"Is that how you want to build a new era, through lies masked as honor and justice?" Orion pressed, concern edging his voice. "Do you even understand what's happening?"
"Do you understand?!" Megatron's voice rose. "Thanks to me, violence on our streets has dropped. I have united Cybertron. I gave our people something to fight for, someone to aim at!"
"D, you once told me a true warrior lifts his sword to protect those who cannot protect themselves. What changed?" Orion sighed, then continued. "You vowed to be the shield and fortress of our people, yet you enlist those who prey on the weak as the very foundation of your cause."
"What are you insinuating, Orion?" Megatron's tone turned furious.
"You are becoming what you vowed to destroy."
These words echoed with brotherly honesty, a plea to bring Megatron to his senses regarding his hypocrisy. To Dreadnought, however, it was a spectacle beyond his wildest dreams, a masterpiece of rhetoric that he could already envision spreading across Cybertron's livestreams.
Megatron's disapproval fell upon Orion like immense pressure, enough to crush any seasoned gladiator. Yet Orion stood his ground, a nearly impossible feat for someone so young and weak.
Even under his brother's relentless shadow, Orion kept his eyes fixed on the High Council. There was something in his gaze, not exactly strength, as he lacked that at that moment, but rather, a living, pulsing courage that anchored his conviction in the present.
"Your Excellencies, Lords of the High Council, what does it mean to be Cybertronian, for you?"
Orion's question struck Dreadnought and his peers off guard. It was not what they had expected.
"What does it mean to be Cybertronian? A foolish, even stupid query," scoffed one elder, venom lacing his words.
"Are you implying we are not Cybertronians? Are you insulting us?!" another barked, indignation echoing through the hall. Only Dreadnought remained silent, he alone grasped the subtle challenge Orion laid before them, and found it… intriguing.
"We are one people," Dreadnought finally replied, sincerity in his voice, a response that silenced the council. Even he could not fully explain why he chose that answer.
"If that is so, why have you left Cybertron, our kin of blood and metal, in this state for so long? Why not use your resources to forge a truly brilliant era?" Orion stepped forward, shy yet his words resonant, echoing in the chamber in ways he himself could scarcely understand.
"Do you believe ruling a planet is simply sitting in chairs and signing papers? Far from it. Governing Cybertron means imposing limits and laws to guarantee stability," Dreadnought's optics glimmered green flecked with red as he spoke.
"Then why so little effort toward real change? You know what the people want! Why do we endure this charade while our world suffers? It seems you prefer theater to addressing the impact your decisions will have on our future." Orion's genuine disappointment struck some council members, a strange pang in their sparks.
Orion held his gaze for five seconds, long enough to study each council member's reaction, each face inscrutable and clouded.
Orion discreetly turned to his brother, finding a look filled with contained fury. The gladiator's eyes pierced Orion like silent blades. They made it clear that this was Megatron's time and speech. They also made it clear that Orion's intervention, though unintentional, had not gone unnoticed. Megatron had chosen him to support, not to shine. Now, however, Orion was beginning to steal the spotlight, even unintentionally.
"We were born from the same spark that once ignited our universe and filled it with life, what makes us any different from you?" Orion turned his gaze to Dreadnought, feeling he must direct his challenge specifically at the council's leader. "What separates a Minicon or a Combiner from me or from you? What difference is there between a Cybertronian born and raised in Iacon or in Kaon and those who sit before me now? We all sprang from the Allspark, and we owe our world to Primus, who sacrificed himself so we would have a home. Why do you, so-called sages, seek to weaken us as a people?"
Those words shook Dreadnought to his core. He could not deny the unfamiliar pulse radiating from the young archivist, something utterly unlike the force Megatron wielded. It stirred a memory Dreadnought had buried long ago.
For a fleeting moment, the elder's mind drifted back to a time when he was young and joyful, a time of trust in the idols he revered: the Thirteen Primes. But even that nostalgia turned to torment when he recalled the night his hometown burned at the hands of the Quintessons. Worse still was the betrayal that followed, when those sworn to guard Cybertron with sword and shield had turned their blades on their own people.
He remembered the voice of his greatest inspiration vividly. The timbre he had once admired now echoed in his mind like a sentence. It was a battle cry that tore at his faith in justice, shattering everything he believed in and sealing the fate of his city, his friends, and himself.
"Decepticons, destroy them all!"
Those words weren't just an order. They were the ultimate betrayal. A call to destruction delivered directly to him by the one he trusted most.
Dreadnought snapped back to the present, his optics hollow with the weight of his years.
"I saw our people shine like a blazing sun at the height of their glory, only to be reduced to ashes… What you seek, boy, cannot be attained. Not even in the time of the Thirteen Primes was such unity achieved."