When inquiries spread about the mysterious cat paw insignia, the revelations that followed shocked the Transformers community.
Their new ideological leaders, the reformers Optimus and Megatron had developed their mature philosophies under the guidance of a teacher.
And that teacher, they discovered with astonishment, was a small carbon-based creature.
Some Transformers dismissed it as absurd. A joke, surely.
Others whispered darker theories, a conspiracy between carbon and silicon-based lifeforms, perhaps an elaborate manipulation.
But many were simply curious.
How could an organic being of such modest proportions impart such profound theories?
And then there were the spectators, the ones who simply found the paw print design interesting.
They began acquiring similar markings for themselves, purely aesthetic, devoid of the deeper meaning carried by the original five.
Garfield paid no attention to any of it.
His departure was imminent, and Orion Pax and Megatron had gathered their followers for a formal send-off.
Surveying the assembled Transformers, an entire crowd gathered to see him off, Garfield felt a moment of inspiration regarding his two protégés.
"Well, I'm leaving now. No sadness, perhaps we'll meet again in the future." He turned to Orion Pax.
"Orion Pax, your name lacks... aggression. Have you considered something with more impact?"
"Something like... Optimus Prime?"
Optimus Prime.
The name resonated through Orion Pax's processor like a struck bell. He had been considering a new designation, but this was perfect.
Gratitude flooded his spark. "Thank you, Teacher, for this gift of a name."
Megatron leaned forward eagerly. "And me, Teacher? What of my name?"
Garfield considered. "Your current designation serves you well."
"It carries weight to shake the world."
The appreciative words flowed freely after that. Garfield allowed himself a moment of satisfaction.
After all, this was Megatron offering genuine praise, warrior to mentor.
Whatever darkness might lurk in Megatron's future, his core remained rooted in service to Cybertron.
Optimus Prime's vision embraced all beings across the universe, Megatron's burned with singular focus on protecting their homeworld above all else.
Garfield prepared to depart, but Optimus and Megatron exchanged glances and approached him with a proposal.
Such a simple farewell seemed inadequate. They should celebrate.
Cybertron had no skewers, no beer in the organic sense.
But it had high-grade motor oil, rare metals, and pristine energy blocks. They would feast.
Soon the square filled with Transformers, Optimus Prime and Megatron's followers mingling together, gnawing on unidentified metals, clutching cubes of energon and lubricants.
They drank, they touched shoulders in camaraderie, they discussed their recent adventures with growing enthusiasm.
It was, in its way, exactly like every gathering of friends throughout history. They drank and they bragged.
Starscream, naturally, held court among a cluster of impressionable listeners.
His silver tongue wove tales of questionable accuracy, and his audience listened with wide optics, completely taken in.
All except one.
Bumblebee, armed with Garfield's warning, had positioned himself strategically within earshot.
He listened to Starscream's nonsense with a pleasant expression while his internal processors cross-referenced every claim against the database.
The discrepancies accumulated rapidly. He recorded everything silently, building a file for future reference.
The bragging continued. The energy flowed.
And on the square, Optimus Prime and Megatron moved among their followers, greeting each with warmth.
Meanwhile, Garfield found himself surrounded by a crowd of Transformers.
They had all discovered Garfield's identity as the legendary teacher, and seeing Terradive's elevated status, many now wished to follow him as well.
Garfield had no intention of taking them along, but he took his responsibilities seriously.
Spreading ideological education, shaping young sparks into Transformers with proper values, this was important work.
He talked.
And talked.
And talked some more.
By the time his mouth felt dry enough to rust, the assembled Transformers were still listening with rapt attention, their optics fixed on him as though he were dispensing pure wisdom directly into their processors.
Finally, he resorted to drastic measures.
"Little Bee," he called, waving Bumblebee over. "Show them the recordings of my lessons with Megatron and Orion Pax."
"This king needs hydration."
Cybertron possessed no water resources. Fortunately, Garfield came prepared.
He produced a bottle of 1927 spring water from his subspace pocket and took several long pulls while Bumblebee activated his projector.
Ahhh. Much better.
As Bumblebee's recordings began playing, faithful captures of Garfield's teaching sessions with the two future leaders, the new audience turned their attention to the screen.
Those who had joined earlier already possessed copies, shared through Bumblebee's network.
Garfield wandered through the crowd, observing the diverse array of Transformer designs.
In Megatron's contingent, he noticed smaller frames… robot dogs, laser birds, various compact assistants.
Small, agile, perfect for reconnaissance.
Hmm.
He considered. One robot dog as a mount, perhaps. One laser bird as a scout. The thought had appeal.
He summoned Terradive.
The Winged General approached promptly. "Teacher, you called?"
Garfield gestured toward the small Transformers. "Tell me about these. The compact ones."
"Ah." Terradive followed his gaze. "They're quite common, Teacher."
"Most serve as adjuncts or companions to larger frames. Easy enough to find."
Garfield nodded thoughtfully. "Take your team. Acquire some."
"The bird forms could serve as accessory combat units, they could integrate with your own frame. The canine forms would function well as ground scouts and guards."
Terradive's optics brightened with understanding. "Yes, Teacher. Immediately."
He signaled to the four warriors and departed on their mission.
As military frames, they naturally sought combat-capable units rather than civilian models.
And on Cybertron, even compact Transformers were everywhere.
While humans might find the concept of robotic animals astonishing, here they were simply... part of the landscape.
The smaller frames struggled for survival even more than mass-produced models.
When Terradive's team announced they were recruiting compact Transformers as official subordinates, the response was overwhelming.
Soon Terradive returned with five robot dogs and five robot birds in tow.
He arrived just in time for the entertainment portion of the evening.
Garfield, it turned out, had more than philosophical wisdom to offer.
From his subspace, he produced a fully functional DJ setup, magically enhanced, and positioned himself at the center of the square.
Dudu yidu.
The first beats dropped.
Kind of ground.
My.
Pick up.
Rhythm flooded the space between Cybertronian frames.
Transformers who had never experienced anything like it found their struts moving of their own accord.
Garfield cast an illusion, creating a legion of himself… dozens of orange cats moving in perfect synchronization and began to dance.
The duplicates swayed, spun, and grooved in ways that defied both biology and mechanics.
The style distorted beautifully.
Joyful noise echoed across Cybertron's metal plains.