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“Subject-338, may you please come up?” Optimus Prime rose to his pedes as he heard Guard-327 speak through the intercom. It has been 950 days since he has been imprisoned. The guard outside his cell, with his badge displaying “288”, entered the code of the padlock of the cell, which was “419 716”. The cell opened. The guard led Optimus Prime to Sector-939, which was just by Sector-937. Optimus Prime walked through the halls, looking over at the others who were chained up in the other cells. Some committed some horrible crimes. But Optimus? He was as far as 510582 steps away from being as bad as them. However, he knew why he was currently imprisoned.
As he walked into room 097, he sensed a pungent smell with his nasal ridge. His HUD determined it to be 494459 — the scent of something recently decayed. Or was it mold? He had about 23 hypotheses but 0 answers; however. it was futile to determine what exactly it was. He had a more serious problem at hand: the mech in front of him.
The room was cold. He made a low exhale, his steam was visible by a soft white steam. His vents sputtered. Optimus sat down in the chair in front of the desk. The silence was thick as he made controlled breaths. The room was of poor quality; it looked as if 781 cyberrats had chewed up the walls.
“We’re moving you to a different cell,” said the mech. He took a heavy pause, but Optimus Prime had no guts to protest.
The mech continued, “We’re moving you to cell no. 640.”
Optimus paused. Asking a question wouldn’t hurt, right? “How come?”
The mech huffed; he crossed his arms. “Imagine a large classroom. Maybe 628 students or so. You know how teachers sit the good kids next to the bad kids?”
Optimus quietly looked up, “Yeah?”
The mech vented harshly. “A certain someone in cell 620 has been acting up.” The mech rhythmically tapped on his desk. “You’re now the good kid, having to teach the bad kid to behave.”
Optimus wanted to protest. That wasn’t how it worked… Usually the bad kid would influence the good kid more than the good kid would influence the bad kid. Though, what was he thinking!? He wasn’t some child in a classroom of students — he was a grown mech.
But… he couldn’t protest.
The guard looked over at the calendar on his desk, which showed “8/9”. Optimus looked too. Was it really September already? His birthday was 9 days ago by now… and he didn’t even know?
The mech in front of him spoke up, “And… We have heard you and Subject-862 have some history together. Perfect, isn’t it?”
Optimus Prime wanted to protest — to say something along the lines of “I’d rather have you be torn into 803 pieces!” — But, he couldn’t protest.
The guard in front of him — Guard-482 — had Guard-534 escort him to the new cell.
He walked, and the numbers started to blur together. Cell 211… Cell 706… Cell 798…
Before Optimus knew it, he arrived at the new cell. And by it was…
Oh…
Megatron…
He knew Megatron had committed some serious crimes. Murder, assassination, battery… Hell, he could probably list like 210808 things that darn mech has done! And yet he, Prime himself, was here instead!?
It wasn’t fair. He knew it wasn’t fair.
But he knew what he did wrong. He broke section 651-328 of Cybertronian law.
Thankfully, his sentence wasn’t as long as some, only 230 days left until release…
Megatron’s optics locked with Optimus Prime’s. He was bewildered by the sight. “P-Prime…?” He uncharacteristically stuttered.
Prime silently sat down in the new cell. He saw Soundwave in cell 664 across from him. Right… Soundwave was probably arrested for giving unauthorized weapons to his Casseticons.
Optimus looked over at Megatron, seeing what he had to say. “Why’d they move you?”
Optimus hesitated, he wasn’t supposed to reveal that information. But it was best to tell the truth. “The guards say you’re too rowdy.”
Megatron huffed. “I can… behave myself… It’s just that Guard-709 has been getting me in trouble for every little thing!”
Optimus was curious. “Like what?”
Megatron huffed, but then slowly leaned in to Optimus. “I’ll say this quietly so that the cameras won’t pick this up…”
Optimus listened in, “Yes?”
Megatron made a heavy sigh, then explained, “Back on 3/8, I stole 4 extra food rations…”
Optimus was surprised, “Really? Only 4?” Optimus raised his eyebrow ridges. “I stole like 6 myself, and they gave me 0 frags about it.”
Megatron rolled his optics, “That’s only because they like you. I’m a Warlord and a supposed ‘bad boy’, so they go harder on me.”
Optimus made a soft “huh…” to Megatron, being his on;y comment.
Megatron crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. “They didn’t even give me a court case before they imprisoned me… Or a telephone call!”
Optimus was aghast at that information. “Doesn’t that violate Section 955-058 of Cybertronian law?”
Megatron looked over at Optimus, “It does?”
Optimus nodded, “Yes… It was first enacted 223 millennia ago, when 172 bots ended up getting wrongly accused as spies and had to sit in jail for 535 days before they sued for false imprisonment.”
Megatron blinked a few times, “You mean… I can sue?”
Optimus shushed Megatron, “Don’t say it so loud… If the cameras pick up, they might find ways or loopholes to stop you…”
Megatron froze and lowered his voice, “Oh…” Megatron took a very long pause before asking. “How do you know of all of this?”
Optimus sighed, “I worked as an archivist about 940 millennia ago, before I became a Prime…”
Megatron perked up, “Oh, like the nerds who work with like 812 datapads with 848 pages each?”
Optimus made a soft chuckle, “You think that’s long? The datapads I read were 111 times longer than that!”
Megatron looked appalled yet astonished, “You cannot be serious…”
Optimus smiled softly. His mask was removed due to identification purposes.
Megatron scrunched his face, “The longest datapad I ever read was 745 pages…”
Optimus raised an eyebrow ridge. He thought it would be more like 0. Megatron corrected immediately.
“Which I only read 28 pages of… And failed the class I was in.”
Optimus was surprised at such a number. Well, with how high it was. “If you don’t entertain yourself with texts, what do you entertain yourself with instead?”
Megatron also corrected that, “I just enjoy shorter content! Not that I completely hate reading at all. I have no time to waste time on something so long yet so useless!”
Optimus protested, which he could, and did, “What!? Reading is so useful! You can learn so much stuff from them!”
Megatron growled, “What can I learn from reading that I cannot learn from someone else!?”
Optimus crossed his arms, “Media literacy, maybe? Avoid propaganda? History? Science? How to speak properly?” Optimus realized mid-sentence, “You speak like you read a lot. Yet you don’t. How come?”
Megatron took a second, hesitating, before answering, “I read poems…”
Optimus was actually surprised. “Poems?”
“Yes…” Megatron’s face was red, yet Optimus couldn’t tell what it was from.
“Do you… recall any poems?”
Megatron hesitated, and he spoke:
“410 sleepless nights
270 spark palpitations, alright
193 missed calls
My sparkmate, why don’t you pick up?
I remember you went offline, back on the 8th, back in ‘52
We were roommates, habsuite 110, me and you
I remember your phone ending in 555
My sparkmate, why can’t you call back?”
Optimus felt flattered by the poem, even if it wasn’t intended towards him. But something inside his spark jumped.
“That’s… a nice poem…” Optimus commented.
Megatron chuckled, “Thanks, I had to memorize it back in school…”
Optimus smiled at Megatron. “Is that so?”
Megatron nodded, “Yeah…”
It was now nighttime, and Optimus Prime was lying in the berth, and recalled the poem to himself once again as he stared at the ceiling…
“964 sleepless nights
462 violation of rights
294 calls we must attend
My sparkmate, can we ever make amends?
I remember we started a war, back on the 8th, back in ‘95
We are cellmates, cells in Section-493, somehow alive
I remember your phone ending in 038
My sparkmate, may I see those digits again?”