Iacon was way different than what Optimus remembered. Instead of the bustling, bright city he remembered, Iacon was now a dull, mindless huh for Sentinel and his troops. The civilians were pushed underground into a new Iacon, one that was silently rebelling against Sentinel constantly.

Optimus rumbled softly, half blind gaze tracking figures from his spot in an alleyway. The low hum of distant engines filled the air, mingling with the crackling of overhead screens that broadcast Sentinel’s decrees on repeat. The once-golden towers of Iacon were now shadowed and crumbling. Surveillance drones swept the streets like cyber-vultures seeking a meal.

Optimus stayed still, the dim glow of his optics flickering weakly under his battered helm. Dust and grime covered his frame, the red and blue plating dulled by age and unfulfilled maintenance. His optics narrowed as he watched enforcers drag a femme to a transport before disappearing.

His servos flexed against the wall, leaving faint indentations in the metal. His hydraulics hissed softly as he stood straight again. He had seen this before. Megatron had done it through conquest. Sentinel, through fear. Different banners, same cruelty.

He stepped deeper into shadows of the alley as a patrol of Enforcers strode by, nothing more than drones but still a threat. The blue and gold insignia of Sentinel’s regime glinted in the dim lighting as they passed before one paused, helm turning and optics sweeping the alley.

Optimus went completely still.

A faint noise came from the Enforcer’s sensor suite. The unit tilted its head, scanning the darkness. Then, apparently satisfied, turned away and marched on.

Optimus vented softly, tension bleeding just slightly from his form as the drone walked by. He turned his helm sharply at a noise nearby, stepping further into the shadows.