Archive of Our Own

Work Text

Prologue:“Like twin stars,
burning in one another’s orbits,
the dark and vacant void of space falls away
warmed by the movement of their dance...”Cit. The Song of the Starcrossed (opening excerpt )
The Star Saga, Golden Age translation
Grand Archives: Iacon *** Most evenings hours, Maccadam’s Old Oil House was bustling with patrons, but if you arrived before the nighttime rush and in the middle of the week, there was a much better chance of getting a seat. Luckily for Orion Pax and Jazz, that was just the time Ratchet left his shift at Iacon central hospital.

They were an unlikely trio - an archivist, a cultural investigator, and a medical apprentice. Cybertronians from different occupations and castes seldom associated, especially in the capital city of Iacon, but their paths had crossed enough times while researching in Iacon’s Hall of Records that they had formed an unlikely friendship.The clink and chatter of other bots socializing and refueling after a solar cycle of work rose and fell around in the background around them - comfortable white noise. Jazz was ordering drinks from the bar, Orion Pax was searching through his servo holoscreen for Grid files he had downloaded from his station at work.

Orion’s spark thrummed with excitement - ever-inquisitive, he loved the thrill of finding treasure buried in the deeply-layered caverns of information that traveled through Cybertron’s Grid.It was on an otherwise ordinary work day of data cataloging in Iacon’s Archives that Orion had discovered something unexpected and very special. A champion gladiator from the pits of Kaon - one would’ve expected a monstrous brute - was saying surprising things about Cybertronian society.

While it could’ve been easy for people to write off the righteous anger of a nameless bot from the lowest of castes, there was something about his communication style that captivated one’s attention - commanded it, even. People were listening to him.What’s more, this gladiator had given himself a name - Megatronus, after one of Cybertron’s Thirteen Primes. The name itself brought up images of heroism and controversy, broadening his influence across class lines, despite his controversial speeches against Cybertron’s rigid social structure.

Orion Pax recognized the danger this Megatronus posed to the caste system’s existing order, but he also knew it was above his caste and position to analyze the gladiator. That job belonged to a cultural investigator like Jazz.He should have reported Megatronus, but he didn’t. Instead, Orion held this secret knowledge close, obsessively gathering every related scrap of material from the Grid until he couldn’t keep the discovery to himself anymore. Eventually, he had shared his findings with the Master Archivist Alpha Trion - who had given him very unexpected advice. Hoping for a second opinion, or at least a sympathetic one, Orion was about to ask his friends what their take on the gladiator was.“Hey Ratchet! Do you want to see something cool?”“Not really, no.” Ratchet absently swirled the glass of high-grade in his hand.“Ha - It was worth a try!” Jazz laughed at the medic’s reaction. Ratchet only rolled his optics and took a long, disinterested drag from his drink. Jazz leaned over to the archivist. “Show it to me, Orion.”He extended the holoscreen projection to Jazz. “Are you familiar with Megatronus?’“The gladiator?” Jazz took a closer look at the projection, “Yeah, I’ve seen clips of him at work while investigating Kaon. Impressive guy - he’s never lost a fight.” He cast a curious glance back at Orion. “I never expected you to be interested in the Gladiator pits.”“Neither did I, but he says some very interesting things, and I can’t help but listen.”“Interesting how?” Ratchet’s tone was an edged mix of curiosity and cynicism.Orion called up a new file on his holoscreen and played it for his friends:[Are not all Cybertronians made of the same materials? The same alloys and lubricants in both Senators and street sweepers - the spark of the same creator in both the loftiest aristocrat and the lowliest miner alike. Why should one get to enjoy every luxury while the other toils and suffers and dies for the barest scraps of energon? What right do the elite have to-]A swift gesture from Ratchet’s fingers silenced Orion’s holoscreen. “You should be more careful with where you share that - Not everyone will share or agree with your innocent interest.”“Oh... right.” Orion had shrunk into himself, covering up the holoscreen with his arms.“I’m just worried for you.” Ratchet’s expression softened, “Be careful, Orion.”“No, I understand.” Orion nodded - he did understand. He’d just gotten too carried away, too excited about this new discovery. His friend’s practicality made much more sense. “Thank you, Ratchet.”“So, what’ll you do?” Jazz asked, “Are you going to report him?No - at least, not yet, thought Orion. “I talked with Alpha Trion about it, and he thought that... I should talk with him.”“Really?” Ratchet’s brows shot up at the same time Jazz asked,“Do you think he’ll respond?”“I don’t know,” Orion admitted, “and though I’m scared to find out - I should at least try.” ___ In Kaon, silence was a rare and ominous creature that lingered like a specter. It hung over crime scenes after the scavengers had picked over a victim and before the authorities had come to collect what was left. The closest Megatronus had ever known of a safe silence was in the dark, echoing arena tunnels before a match.Swaddled in darkness and the white noise of clanking weapons and muffled voices, Megatronus felt as though he was living in a frozen moment outside of time where both life and death were the same. Waiting his turn, he was already resigned to die in the Arena, but there was the chance he could live - he hadn’t lost a match yet. Despite every close call over thousands and thousands of matches, he still functioned.But to what end? To live - to fight one more day - to show others bots that they could carve an identity for themselves beyond whatever caste they had been condemned to, and to one day take revenge on the elites and tyrants who had put them in these shackles in the first place.Yes - Megatronus closed his eyes. He savored the thought of vengeance before every fight. The righteous anger that swelled in his spark filled him up with rage - and when Megatronus needed more of it, he would listen to Councilors and aristocrats speaking of peace and prosperity. Lies and deception.He would have lingered on this favored line of thought for longer, but was interrupted by an unexpected ping from the grid. He frowned and opened the holoscreen installed in his servo. [incoming message]
[source: unknown]
[recipient: Megatronus of Kaon] That was strange. Messages shouldn’t get through to him unless Soundwave had already scanned them - especially not encrypted transmissions from an unknown source. Curious and reluctantly impressed, Megatronus opened the message:[Your words are heard in Iacon. You are more right than you know. Let’s talk.]
[Orion Pax]Interesting. Megatronus forwarded Orion Pax’s message to his communications chief with an audio message, “Soundwave, did you intercept this message?”“Negative.” Soundwave’s reply was near instantaneous, as always, “The transmission bypassed standard security.”“Hmmm... Interesting.” Megatronus smiled - it wasn’t just rage filling up his spark now, but something curious and almost hopeful. He liked the feeling, and decided that tonight, for certain, he would live through this match. “I will have to meet this Orion Pax.” _______ [Sending Video Call Request ...]Orion drummed his fingers against the top of his workstation and stole a glance out the nearby window. Glowing biolights of Iacon’s citizens speeding through traffic lit up the the inky blue-black of twilight. He had chosen to work late that night, officially citing a backlog of work, though he had used the extra cycles to set up a secure connection for his call with Megatron.They had arranged a time to meet later that evening, and Orion tried his best to distract himself from the anxiety thrumming in his chassis. As much as logic told him that he had nothing to lose by contacting Megatronus - the connection was secured, and Alpha Trion had condoned his actions - Orion was both thrilled and terrified that Megatron would actually accept his invitation.A part of his spark thrilled at the thought of meeting the gladiator, but another part was screaming at him to cancel the call right now and pretend that he had never seen anything strange, and to simply go back to being a spectator clerk sorting Grid data for the rest of his life. What would he do - what would he even SAY when he spoke with the gladiator?The ring of his outgoing call suddenly halted. A flash of panic momentarily made his mind blank in the nanoklick between the moment when his call was accepted and the video feed connected - and then there he was. Megatronus was there, on the other side of the feed, staring back at him with a confident ease. Orion Pax prayed he looked at least half as composed as the gladiator.“Orion Pax, I presume.”He tried to adopt the gladiator’s relaxed confidence. “Megatronus. Thank you for replying to my message. It is an honor to speak with you.”“Likewise, Pax.” He seemed pleased at Orion’s greeting. “Tell me, what of my words are heard in the great capital city of Iacon?”“You speak of freedom, and of equality -,” Orion’s could feel his words growing in confidence as he continued, “- of a Cybertron where bots can choose their own destinies - not those assigned at one’s creation within the caste system.”Megatronus’s brows raised and a small, dangerous-looking smile teased at the edges of his faceplate as he listened. “Revolutionary thoughts and words.”“Indeed.” Pax replied.The gladiator’s expression darkened. “Am I to assume the Senate and Council have sent you to convict me of treason?”“The Senate and Council don’t know about this conversation.” Megatronus’s optics widened in surprise as Orion Pax continued, “Nor have any of your speeches been reported to them. I wish to speak with you privately.”Megatronus burst into incredulous laughter. “Who are you, Orion Pax? And what would one of Iacon’s elites have for the revolutionary ideas of a gladiator?”Orion felt a small smile creep up the corners of his faceplate. “I am but a humble data clerk, working under the Master Archivist Alpha Trion in Iacon’s Hall of Records.”“Does your job include sending encrypted messages? My communications chief was impressed by your invitation.”“Technically, no. My job is to look through the Grid and catalogue all data for the investigative castes to analyze - a ‘data miner’ of sorts -”“Make no mistake, archivist - ” Megatronus cut in sharply, “If you fail at your “data mining’ your rations aren't reduced. Nor are you likely to be killed in a mine collapse and your parts melted into slag for raw materials. Do not pretend to understand the lives of those less fortunate than you - you know nothing of the lower castes’ suffering.”Orion could feel his faceplate burning hot with mortification. He averted his gaze from the video screen, “...I apologise. I never meant to offend.”“And yet you are unhappy in your current situation.” the gladiator’s tone was softer now.Orion chose his words carefully. “It seems there is much I don’t understand.” He looked back at the screen and held the gladiator’s gaze as he continued.“But I want to learn - I want to help if I can.” Orion meant it. “Show me what I don’t know.”“Very well, Pax. And what can you show me? What can I possibly learn from the archives of Iacon?”“Aside from an expansive access to the repository of Cybertronian history and culture, something tells me that you don’t want the Council to take an interest in your words just yet.”Megatronus grinned, “You drive a hard bargain, archivist. It appears I’ve found a worthy opponent in the arena of ideas and words.” ***

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

[Where is it written that one must remain in a predetermined place from their birth form the Well of Allsparks? Is there a ledger hidden in Vector Sigma, in some distant arm of a remote galaxy, in the mythic Covenant of Primus, that declares your destiny? Is one’s name and predetermined lot in life forever frozen in stasis? If our bodies themselves transform, how much more should our lives evolve as well! ]
 
[But could there be such a thing as destiny, one’s lot in life written in the Covenant in indelible ink by Primus himself? If there

is

such a thing as destiny, I deny the notion that any Councillor or Guild leader knows what is best for me, or for any one of you.]
 
[Surely you know, deep within your sparks, that you were meant for more than a lifetime of drudgery and stagnation. Yet familiarity keeps oppression close - but why? Out of fear? Out of resistance to the unfamiliar? Or perhaps out of ignorance to your own worth?]
 
[My friends, do not be deceived - you are worth more than the price of your parts and your labor. You have value beyond your function, and potential beyond whatever occupation the Guilds assigned you at your creation. For I was once a nameless worker like many of you, assigned to a job without even the dignity of a proper name. Now you see me as a gladiator, a champion of the ring, with a name that inspires hope in the sparks of friends and terror in the eyes of opponents.]  
 
[ Fellow Cybertronians! My friends - I have done this by my own hand, and I say to you that you can as well. You have value far beyond whatever function you were assigned at your ascendency from the Well. My friends, rise up and claim what is rightfully yours! Rise up and take hold of your own destiny! Rise up!]
... 
Recordings of the gladiator's speeches played through Orion Pax’s mind as he made his way to Alpha Trion’s office. The Archivist had summoned him to ask about his meeting with Megatronus from the previous night 
 
Much to his surprise, Orion Pax thought that their conversation had gone well. The gladiator and librarian had easily fallen into a lively conversation, and long after they had disconnected the encounter played over and over through Orion’s mind.

He found himself even more intrigued about Megatronus as a character, and had spent more cycles than he’d originally intended collecting errant snippets of the gladiator’s speeches from the Grid, watching and rewatching them long after he had gone home that night.
 
Orion hadn’t watched many of Megatronus’s fights - he was more interested in what Megatronus had to say, anyway - and the more he listened, the more Orion felt like he was coming alive. It was as if the gladiator’s fire had lit something inside him that he had never known he had before, and it made him realize how much he ached for things to be different.
 
He was outside the Archivist’s office now, and gave a polite knock to announce his arrival. “Enter, Orion Pax,” Alpha Trion commanded.
 
He stepped into the room. The Archivist’s office was an elegant blend of classical Golden Age architecture tastefully offset with modern technology. Framed portraits around his office doubled as holoscreens when needed, but Alpha Trion appeared to use these screens solely for observation and communication, not for archival work. Instead, Iacon’s Grand Archivist recorded data by hand - as he was now - inscribing entries with an ancient quill into an equally ancient book.
 
Orion Pax had always thought it strange that the Archivist preferred analog data entry tools over much more efficient technology. The Archivist clearly knew how to use a datapad, yet Alpha Trion was forever scratching away with his quill.
 
One time, Orion Pax had asked Alpha Trion why he preferred the quill and book over a datapad. “There is more wisdom in this single book than in the entirety of Cybertron’s Archives,” The Archivist had replied, “And both artifacts are gifts from a very dear friend who became one with the Allspark long, long ago.” His response brought up more questions than it answered. Orion decided Alpha Trion’s preferences must’ve been a quirk of old age and sentiment.
 
“You summoned me, Archivist,” Orion Pax waited for his mentor to finish writing.
 
“I did,” Alpha Trion finally set his quill upon the open book, “I am most interested in knowing how your conversation with Megatronus went last night. What are your impressions of this upstart gladiator?”
 
“He is very well-spoken, and possesses the platform to get his ideas heard by many.” Alpha Trion looked thoughtful, and he nodded for Orion to continue, “I believe Megatronus considers himself a hero.”
 
“A hero,” the Archivist’s tone was thoughtful, “Tell me Orion Pax, do you consider Megatronus a hero?”
 
“I...,” Orion was taken aback for a moment. He’d never given it a thought before. Besides, assessments like that weren’t expected or even allowed of a data clerk. Someone of a higher caste - a cultural investigator, like Jazz, for example - would be the one to decide something like that. A simple archivist like himself could get in big trouble for stepping outside the boundaries of his designated class. Yet here was Alpha Trion, encouraging him to do just that. Something about that realization emboldened Orion. He met his mentor’s optics and replied.
 
“At the moment, I do not know enough about Megatronus to make such a determination,” he began, “However, I do know that he feels very strongly about the suffering of Cybertron’s lower castes. He wants justice for the oppressed, he believes in freedom, and he is determined to make that happen by his own hand.”
 
“A fair assessment,” Alpha Trion murmured, looking at something across his desk. Orion followed his gaze to a holoscreen where replay videos of arena fights clashed across the screen. Even with the low video quality, he could see Megatronus’s broad silhouette cutting through a swarm of opponents fiercely and methodically. It was disturbing and almost beautiful to watch. The other gladiators never had a chance.
 
Alpha Trion finally paused the video, freezing the dying bots in a gruesome tableau of anguish and pain. Orion felt his spark hitch in sympathy. He looked away.  
 
“Have you seen these videos yet?” Orion shook his head. “I see. Did Megatronus want to speak with you again?”
 
“Yes,” Orion had been surprised with how easily the gladiator had agreed to a second meeting. “Yes, he did.”
 
“Good. I would advise you to continue speaking with him. You need not report every conversation - just the most salient points. I want you to listen to Megatronus, understand his perspective, and if possible, become his friend.”

His friend?!

“Archivist,” Orion Pax began, “I understand that Megatronus is an influential leader who cares very deeply about the fate of all Cybertronians, but he is hardly a pacifist. Shouldn’t we inform the High Council - “
 
A stern eyebrow from Alpha Trion silenced Orion Pax mid-protest. He shrank under the Archivist’s gaze, suddenly embarrassed, and wished he had never said anything in the first place.  
 
“You know as well as I do that reporting Megatronus would have little to no effect on his movement. The report would most likely be buried in a pile of data, ignored and forgotten. In the very unlikely chance that the Council or any authority deigns to consider him a threat and succeeds in eliminating him, the loss of such a powerful advocate for the lower castes would only further divide Cybertron. Either outcome is unwelcome, and both would confirm his accusations that the Council is hostile and indifferent towards the lower castes.”
 
“With this in mind, I’m hoping to create a third outcome,” the Archivist concluded, “Megatronus’s status as a figurehead has yet to be determined, and I believe that you, Orion Pax, can help temper his excesses.”
 
Alpha Trion must have seen the hesitance and confusion on Orion’s faceplate, because he continued, “My student, you are diligent and inquisitive, and you complete even the simplest of tasks with passion; I wish every other clerk possessed even a tenth of your ambition. Even more importantly, you are kind. I’ve seen your work, and I have faith in you.”
 
“I understand, Archivist.” Orion felt his faceplate flush with a mix of embarrassment and pride - he hadn’t expected his mentor to pay such close attention to the data clerks who worked under him. He bowed his helm in acknowledgement. “Thank you.”
 
With that, Alpha Trion dismissed Orion. He left the Archivist’s office, his head swirling with wordless thoughts spiraling around a central point of calm determination. Alpha Trion had given him much to think about.
 
Orion Pax returned to his workstation. His processors hummed full of unarticulated questions. He spent the rest of the workday on autopilot, waiting for his next meeting with Megatronus.
 ___  
Megatronus waited for the librarian's call in a darkened room illuminated by the neon glow of holoscreens from Soundwave’s satellite workstation. The communications hub was based in a repurposed factory basement, and it was the most secure location to have a private conversation - both in terms of digital surveillance and in physical security, thanks to Soundwave’s mysterious sponsor in the capital.
 
Soundwave and Megatronus had met orbital cycles ago in a gladiator match where opponents fought to draw the first wound. Megatron had won that match - barely - and afterwards Soundwave had approached him with a proposition to work together.
 
He soon discovered that Soundwave worked as an intelligence officer for an unnamed Councilor, but had very little esteem for the ruling elite, and he secretly despised his current employer. According to Soundwave, transmissions of Megatron’s fights and dramatic speeches were all the convincing he needed to become an undercover double agent in Kaon.
 
Though wary at first, Megatronus gradually began to respect the reclusive gladiator who associated with minibots and kept his emotions hidden behind a visor. Soundwave’s surveillance had served him well, and no other gladiator had come so close to beating him in a fight before. While Megatronus still wasn’t completely certain that he could trust SOundwave, the two gladiators had forged an alliance of mutual respect.
 
Now Megatronus waited for the call from the archivist, another enigmatic character who claimed to agree with the ideals he professed in the Arena. The gladiator still didn’t know what to make of Orion Pax. He was skeptical that anyone so privileged could truly be unhappy, but Pax seemed earnest enough. Still, all that had ever known of the distant capital had turned out to be lies and indifference to the suffering of those less fortunate.
 
“Make sure to track the call tonight,” he told Soundwave, who only nodded back in confirmation. “Let us see how likely it is that this librarian is a spy.”
 
Two minicons were chasing each other around the room, vying for Soundwave’s attention after checking in with the spymaster. Megatronus had known the two smaller bots from his mining days, and once he had left the mines to become a gladiator, the twins had followed him and had gotten a job as security detail for the Arena. They had become fast friends with Soundwave and his minibot acquaintances. For a bot that normally kept to himself, Soundwave was beginning to attract quite the posse of minibots.

Shouldn’t the twins be working now?

“Rumble, Frenzy - if you’re going to cause trouble, go do it somewhere else.”
 
“Okay boss!” the twins replied and eagerly scampered off to annoy strangers outside. The communications room was markedly quieter once they left.
 
“Ready when you are, Pax,” Megatronus murmured, but he didn’t have to wait much longer before the data clerk’s call request came through his personal communications clip.
 
“Good evening, Megatronus.”
 
“Good evening, Orion Pax. I’m transferring you to the main screen.” A moment later, the librarian’s face appeared on the communication center’s central holoscreen. Soundwave was already tracking the caller.

Good

. Megatronus wasn’t about to let a stranger gain any advantage on him - he was going on the offensive tonight. “Good of you to call, librarian. I wanted to ask you some questions tonight.”
 
“Of course. What are your questions?”
 
“How can I be sure you aren’t a spy?” the gladiator’s optics narrowed. It was not a subtle question. He wanted to catch the librarian off guard and gauge his reaction.
 
“I am not a spy.” Pax looked surprised and a little insulted. A promising reaction - the librarian was most likely telling the truth. “Even if I was a spy, where would I go with this information? It’s highly unlikely that the Council would take my report seriously, if it even made it that far.”
 
“Good. I wouldn’t want any unfortunate incidents to befall you in Iacon.” It was a only partly idle threat, but he saw the librarian's optics widen into an expression of surprise and wariness. Good. Megatronus had followers across the planet, but nothing akin to a network of hitmen - though Pax didn’t have to know that. He was a gladiator, not a police chief for Pits sake!  
 
A silent pulse form his personal communicator alerted him to a message. Megatronus glanced at his servo. Soundwave had sent him the Archivist’s location.
 
[Central Iacon Hall of Records]
 
He raised a brow. So the librarian

was

telling the truth - about his location, at least. Still, Megatronus had to believe that there was more to this Orion Pax than met the optic.
 
It had been very difficult to gather information on the data archivist from Iacon. Per his request, Soundwave had been able to scrape up records of receipts, an address, several social contacts - the archivist didn’t get out much, apparently - but everything related to his work was a blank wall. Iacon’s Hall of Records was protected with an impermeable barrier of secrecy. There was no way of knowing what sort of information Orion Pax came across on a daily basis. A small part of him envied the librarian’s quiet, comfortable obscurity.
 
Still, the gladiator couldn’t help but wonder about the enigma of Orion Pax - was he a spy, or could he be trusted? He would figure this librarian out eventually, but the mystery of not knowing nagged at him in the meantime.
 
“Do you have any other questions to ask me?”
 
“I do,” Megatronus continued, “If knowledge is power, that balance is heavily skewed in your favor. You know much about me, and yet I know very little about you.” He watched the librarian intently, “Tell me, Pax, what do you believe?”
 
That made him pause. Pax took a moment to carefully collect his thoughts, and Megatronus let him. He was watching for telltale signs of lying - he’d seen the tells thousands of times in his life as a miner and gladiator, and he’d seen enough of politicians on holovids to know propaganda and deception when he saw it. Almost without realizing it, he found himself wishing that this data clerk wouldn’t attempt to lie to him too.

Don’t disappoint me, Pax.

“I agree with you on many things,” The librarian spoke at last, meeting his optics with a determined and thoughtful expression that Megatronus recognised from their first meeting.  “All Cybertronians are made from the same materials, and are born from the same source, yet some are forced to endure a lifetime of drudgery and suffering that they never deserved.
 
“So much depends upon the moment when one is sorted by the Guilds. Some administrator deems what is suitable for one’s frame and supposed temperament when we are sparklings, barely able to understand the world, and their decision dictates the remainder of our lives. But how can one bot possibly know what potential lies in the spark of another, especially when they haven’t had the chance to explore it for themselves?”
 
Megatronus nodded for him to continue. The archivist seemed honest so far, and he had echoed many of the gladiator’s beliefs.
 
“While others have surely struggled in silence for so long, wondering if they could ever be more than their predetermined role in society, the example your life is proof that one can achieve far beyond the expectations of others. You have rejected the decision of the Guilds, carving a path for yourself and creating an identity far beyond whatever some administrator had determined in ignorance and apathy. Why should one suffer and die while the other can afford to live in luxury?”

“I know I am very fortunate to live in Iacon, and I owe a degree of my comfort to the toils of others I will never know. I owe my societal status to the choice of some Guild Administrator who decided my placement when I emerged from the Well of Allsparks.
 
“But what I choose to do with my life is not determined by a guild, or an administrator, or some secret ledger maintained by the High Council - I know no such thing exists.”

Good to know.

“What I choose to do with my life is up to me, and so it should be for every Cybertronian with a spark.”

Well-said, Pax.

He let the librarian continue. “In one of your speeches, you spoke of how all Cybertronians are alike, ‘

The same alloys and lubricants in both Senators and street sweepers,”

and

“the spark of the same creator in both the loftiest aristocrat and the lowliest miner alike,’

and I agree, for each and every one of us is brought forth to life from the Well with the divine Light of Primus dwelling within the spark of all.”

The divine light of Primus dwelling within the spark of all.

Pax said that like he actually meant it. Megatronus felt his mouth curve into a wry smile. It was cute how the archivist appealed to things like religion and destiny as if they could magically change the suffering of others.
 
Megatronus didn’t believe in the power of Primus or the Thirteen; he knew better than to hope in myths. Even if they were true, he didn’t have much respect for a creator who should have stepped in to help his struggling children aeons ago, rather than abandoning them to the negligence of absent Primes and the oppression of Cybertron’s current caste system.
 
If there still was a such a thing as divinely appointed Primes - if they even really

existed

in the first place - then they should have overthrown Sentinel and his High Council ages ago. He had very little faith in Primes.
 
However, Megatronus liked the sound of the librarian’s words, and he had to admit that they evoked beautiful imagery. It was something that perhaps even the most hard-bitten of Kaon’s residents could appreciate.
 
“The divine light of Primus within the spark of all,” Megatronus murmured. He would have to use that in a closing address after a match.
 
“Not my words, exactly. I’m paraphrasing from various sources -”
 
“But you believe in them, don’t you?”
 
“Yes, I suppose I do.”
 
“Then they are your words, Orion Pax.” He continued as the librarian paused to think over this last statement. “Tell me then - if you are paraphrasing, where would you find the words in the first place?”
 
“I have seen billions of data entries over the cycles; it is my job to sort this data into the proper categories so they can be used by officials in higher castes. Occasionally, I stumble upon interesting entries - historical texts, literature, poetry - and I save them in a personal archive to read later. It’s... a hobby of sorts.”
 
“Interesting. I thought you were forbidden from analyzing and questioning things, yet you keep a personal library of information for this very purpose,” the gladiator’s optics glimmered with amusement, “You appear to be a revolutionary yourself, Orion Pax.”
 
A small, thoughtful smile spread across the librarian’s face. “It would appear so."
 
Megatronus broke into a grin. “I can’t help but wonder what sort of forbidden texts you have saved in a personal archive.”
 
“Oh? Well, if you’re asking...” Megatronus nodded for him to continue, “A little bit of everything. Recently I’ve been digging deep into the origins of the Functionist caste system, and what I’ve read thus far is deeply disturbing.”
 
“Educate me.”
 
“Cybertron was not always divided into a rigid class structure. In our planet’s Golden Age, the spacebridges and their ports teemed with commerce and travelers from across the cosmos. The current caste system was installed by Sentinel Prime as a response to growing civil unrest and the threat of a cataclysmic rust plague that wiped out entire colonies.
 
“The castes were meant as a temporary fix to a current crisis, and it worked - for a time - but the system soon became entrenched and was accepted as the way Cybertron had always been.”
 
The gladiator’s optics blazed with intensity as he listened to Pax’s history lesson. “I have never heard this story before.”
 
“Really!? That’s...” the librarian trailed off, a sad expression on his face. He didn’t complete the thought. It took him a moment to continue. “The story gets worse. It would appear that the caste system was a remnant of Cybertron’s Quintesson occupation.
 
“While the alien race helped Cybertronians make tremendous advances in science and engineering, it was all for the sake of turning the planet’s population into slaves. Sentinel Zeta - who became Sentinel Prime - led the planet’s scattered population in a resistance effort to drive the Quintessons away from Cybertron for good.”
 
“Sentinel Prime led the resistance against the Quintesson invaders,” Megatronus raised a brow. So Sentinel Prime

had

been worth something aeons ago. Oh, how far he had fallen.  
 
“Cybertron won, banishing the alien invaders to the stars and bringing in a new Golden Age for the planet. It was an age of exploration and discovery, but the Quintesson-established practice of classifying bots according to their alt mode was deeply entrenched and even professed by some as the divine will of Primus. Still, Cybertron’s citizens still possessed opportunities to sort themselves into professions of their choosing - gaining merit and rank, sometimes even switching to a new career altogether.”
 
“With a collection of increasing planetary crises and the rust plague destroying Cybertron’s spacebridge network, Sentinel Prime and the Council enforced structure upon the chaos of our homeworld in the form of a rigidly determined class structure. This became the template for Cybertron’s current caste system.”  
 
“They never teach you

that

in mining orientation,” Megatronus murmured to himself. “What other historical accounts of similar battles do you have in your personal archive?”
 
“I would have to look through several history records to select specific passages,” he could see the archivist searching through a datapad, “However, I

could

send you Peritus’ funeral speech. It’s a eulogy for the dead who fought after a particularly brutal battle in the Quintesson War.
 
“Some historians argue that this speech inspired such zeal for freedom in the sparks and minds of all who heard it that it brought Cybertron’s forces back from the brink of defeat. While I don’t entirely agree with this assessment, Peritus is a brilliant orator and this is one of his best speeches. I think you’d like it.”
 
“Read it for me, Pax.” The gladiator smiled and crossed his arms in satisfaction. His stance was wide, and he focused on the librarian’s optics, ready to meet the speech like an ally in the arena. “Let us see what this Peritus has to say about battles and freedom.”
 
___
 
“So, how’d it go?”
 
Jazz stared expectantly at Orion Pax over his glass of Visco. Work schedules had kept them busy, and it had been several solar cycles since they could meet again. Ratchet was busy at the hospital tonight, so it was only the two of them at Maccadam’s.
 
“It was interesting,” Orion decided. “He’s an important character for sure, and very well-spoken.”
 
“I can’t believe he actually responded,” Jazz sounded incredulous. He shook his head and took a swig of his drink before continuing, “What did you even

talk

about?”
 
Orion Pax remembered Ratchet’s warning from their last night at Maccadam’s and paused. He needed to be mindful of how he responded. “He asked me about what I really thought about the caste system, and he wanted to know why I was interested in speaking with him in the first place - even accused me of being a spy.”
 
“Yes, because you’re such a suspicious character.” Jazz chuckled at that.
 
Orion decided not to mention the threat. “He asked about my thoughts on the caste system. Then I gave him a brief history lesson, and read a few excerpts from Peritus’s funeral speech.”
 
“Poetry!” Jazz laughed. “I can’t believe it - having a philosophy salon with a

gladiator

of all people! I didn’t think most of them could spell their own

names

.”

Oh.

That was a good point - Orion had read the passages aloud, so he didn’t know if the gladiator actually knew how to read. “Literate or not, I know that Megatronus is an excellent speaker. I can see that he believes in his ideas with his entire spark.”
 
“True,” Jazz nodded, “But what is he going to

do

about those ideas? It’s dangerous to speak ideas like that aloud, let alone

act

on them.”
 
“He doesn’t seem to worried about it.”
 
“And what about you? Aren’t you worried?”
 
Orion blinked at Jazz’s unexpected question. “I... don’t know yet.” Truthfully, he wasn’t worried. He had faith in Iacon’s security systems - not even data-mining excursions into the Dark Grid could shake the Archive’s cyberdefenses. Even if there was a chance that some outside spy could penetrate Iacon’s Archives, Alpha Trion would certainly defend him. The Archivist had set him up to the task, after all.
 
“You don’t know?” Jazz’s optics widened in surprise, “How long are you going to keep talking with him?
 
“Until he isn’t interested anymore, I suppose,” Saying the words aloud made Orion Pax realise that he didn’t have any intention of quitting his correspondence with Megatronus. Speaking with the champion gladiator had set something inside his spark aflame that he’d never known he’d possessed before. Orion had never spoken so freely or truthfully in front of anyone else before - not even his closest friends.
 
“Fair enough,” Jazz acknowledged Orion’s answer with a nod. “Let me know how that goes.”
 
“I will.”
 
For the rest of the night, their conversation was much more casual. Jazz and Orion Pax stayed for a few more drinks before finally heading home, but the archivist’s thoughts kept coming back to the dangers of speaking with the gladiator. Strangely enough, he wasn’t afraid of the consequences. He was looking forward their next call.  
 
***

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Over the next several deca-cycles, Megatronus talked more with Orion Pax. He realized that he was coming to enjoy their conversations - he even looked forward to them. Speaking with the archivist had opened his optics, and for all the gladiator’s anger and cynicism, had reluctantly cracked open a chance for hope to slip into his spark.
 
Now something like hope had joined the slow-burning, familiar rage in his spark. For so long, he had raged against the shackles of a system that had taken everything from him. Of all the places to find a sympathetic audience, he had never expected to find one in the halls of Iacon! Even more incredible, Orion Pax had reached out to

him

. Speaking with the librarian helped clarify his thoughts, and had given him hope that the impossible vision of a free Cybertron could indeed happen.
 
Though occasionally the archivist’s questions were naive and could have easily been interpreted as insulting, Pax listened patiently and seemed genuinely interested in the gladiator’s perspective. Megatronus found himself growing fond of the archivist, and he was looking forward to their conversation tonight.
 
Which wouldn’t be until after his match - Megatronus could feel his spark thrumming, expanding, exhilarating in the coming thrill of battle. He also felt a strange, new pang of frustration of wanting the fight to be over already so he could speak with his new friend.

Friend

- Kaon’s Champion paused for a nanoclick. He supposed they

were

friends, however unlikely.
 
The thought was interrupted by the bell summoning him to the Arena. He left the muffled catacomb tunnels with a smile on his face. He was more than ready to fight tonight.
 
The noise of the crowd was a dull roar that washed over him with all the intensity of a waterfall the moment Megatronus stepped into the sight of the spectators. He raised both his servos, and the Arena erupted into cheers of his name.

MEGATRONUS! MEGATRONUS! MEGATRONUS!

He took a running start and transformed to jet mode, thundering laps around the Arena's perimeter, just out of reach of the cheering crowd. They clamored even louder, and some bots stretched out their servos to touch him and missed. Megatronus transformed again and landed on top of a platform erected in the middle of the battlefield.
 
A scan of the battlefield revealed limited debris, but no other gladiators. It must have been swept clean of detritus and corpses since the last match.

Interesting.

Then again, he wasn’t supposed to challenge anyone for the title of champion tonight. What new challenges had the Arena managers prepared instead?
 
“...

THESE MONSTROUS ORGANICS, CAPTURED FORM THE DEEPEST REACHES OF SPACE

!” He could feel the ground rumbling as the Announcer continued. “

WILL OUT CHAMPION SURVIVE THE RAMPAGING HORDES?

”
 With a reverberating BANG, every entry gate in the Arena slammed open at once. The monsters surged into the pit like a hideous wave, all teeth and claws covered in scales and fur and flesh. From this distance, the horde looked less like a group of stampeding creatures and more like some sort of grotesque, wall-like combiner closing in on him. Megatronus was surrounded. Good.  
He leapt off the platform in jet mode and flew high to get a better view of the ever-shrinking organic perimeter. The beasts looked formidable - Arena management had really outdone themselves getting so many of these alien creatures in one location. He couldn’t marvel for long - a swarm of beasts had risen up to meet him in the air.

Even better.

He blasted through the swarm, picking off the far ones with his ion cannon, and then barreled through the vanguard that first came up to meet him, knocking their battered frames out of the sky to be trampled by the advancing hordes below.

He had an idea.

Megatronus climbed, and the flying monsters followed as he gained altitude. He flew up, almost to the top of the Arena ceiling, and transformed back to his root mode at the very peak of the climb.
 
The gladiator fell on his pursuers like metal death. He leapt across their backs, slashing and blasting each of the monsters with cold precision as the ground-based swarm below grew closer and closer before finally dispatching the last of the fliers. Megatronus was still high in the air, so he transformed to jet mode and flew back down to the Arena. It would be fairly easy for him to pick off the rest of the creatures from air - easy, but boring - and where was the fun in that?
 
He sent a few shots at the horde to get them riled up, then switched back to root mode and crashed into the wave of monsters, ion cannon blazing. Kaon’s Champion carved a path of gore and carnage through the organics. Their fluids and remains splattered on him and on the Arena’s black, energon-soaked sands, but he was too focused on moving onto the next opponent to notice the trail of destruction behind and all around him.
 
The rest of the battle was a blur. He wasn’t aware of much else at this point - the cheers of Arena patrons were a dull roar of background noise. He saw flashes of attackers in the corner of his vision, felt the pounding of his own energon through his head. He was cutting down the monsters on instinct, and Megatronus could feel his spark singing with the thrill of the fight. This was his place, his domain - and he was undefeated.
 
At last, Megatronus cut down the final organic creature. He was covered in gore and leaking energon, but he was grinning as he stood over the ring of carnage. Another night, another victory, another show for the audience, and he had thoroughly enjoyed every moment. A pity that it was over so soon, though he also enjoyed the part that came next in his performance.

“My friends! Fellow children of Cybertron,” He looked around at the audience, pacing in a circle as he talked so he could address as many people as possible - and also to give him an idea of what he would say to them tonight. “I salute you! You honor me with your presence here tonight.”
 
Megatronus panned the roaring crowd, right servo raised in a victory gesture. Lately he had been inspired by the librarian’s history lessons - perhaps tonight would be a good chance to give a one of his own. The crowd tonight was mostly locals - industrial workers from every corner of the mines and factories and refineries all around Kaon. He would adjust his message accordingly.
 
“You came here for a show, and I hope I have performed accordingly,” The crowds cheered their approval. An easy smile formed on his face as he paced and gestured with passionate words. The people loved his dramatics, and he was more than happy to oblige them with a show.
 
“Here in the Arena, the proving grounds of gladiators and the temple of sacrifice, we deal only in absolutes. In the Arena, there is no room for lies and deception, only the truth of life and death. Once shall stand-!” he paused to let the audience complete the chant:

ONE SHALL FALL!

“And one shall fall,” Kaon’s Champion grinned back in satisfaction and savored the drama. He imagined the librarian watching his performance from one of the video satellites stationed around the Arena. What would Orion Pax think if he came to Kaon and saw the spectacle for himself? He felt a swell of amusement as he considered the idea.

That would be interesting.

He would have to share the idea with the librarian when they talked later that night.
 
Now, however, it was time for a history lesson. “My friends, I come to you tonight with a message of resilience and of hope. For Cybertron was once a world of heroes and fighters - fierce, and free, and alive. Now our planet sinks deeper into the rust of a system that refuses to move, refuses to adapt. It is in our very nature to transform - why must our society be condemned to rusting away in one form for the rest of our existence?”
 
He had the audience’s full attention now. The focus of thousands of EM fields charged the air around the Arena like an invisible cloud of energy. He bathed in it, feeling infinitely powerful as he continued speaking.
 
“Do not be deceived, my friends. Cybertron has already fallen from its rightful place as an empire of mighty titans. Our planet’s present ‘peace and prosperity’ is neither peaceful nor prosperous - The elite lock themselves away in comfortable stasis while the rest of cybertron bleeds their own energon to feed their excess.”
 
“Make no mistake, the once hero of Sentinel Prime has become a tyrant even worse than his Quintesson predecessors. Like every other Prime, he has fallen away from his mission and denied his role, leaving us to suffer. Sentinel and the Council have ignored the lower castes’ suffering as they preach peace and prosperity. Do not believe their lies and deception, my friends. You are being deceived!”
 
Not very subtle, but Kaon’s crowd certainly agreed with his sentiments, and he wasn’t trying to make any friends in the Council. The crowds roared in agreement, encouraging him to continue. “My friends, the standing Functionist system is the greatest in a long line of crimes against Cybertron and its people, made all the more evil by its enforcers being Cybertronian themselves. But my friends, our planet once overthrew alien invaders in the past, and it surely can overthrow its current overlords.”
 
The audience rumbled its agreement with him as Megatronus continued, “The Functionist Guilds have declared themselves as necessary for the greater good of all Cybertronians. They claim that one’s born function determines one's identity, that it is for the greater good of all - and condemn each of us to assigned lives when we are barely out of the Well.
 
“But I ask you: how can some Guild administrator know what is best for millions of sparks and lives across the planet? We ourselves know what is best for us - not some Councillor or distant politician half a planet away. My fellow Cybertronians, make no mistake - you are being deceived!”
 
The Arena erupted in thunderous agreement, and Kaon’s Champion paused for a moment to consider the effects of his words.
 
“My fellow Cybertronians, you are being deceived,” he continued at last. “The lies of our current caste system are told by those in power who seek to maintain their own high positions. I took the name, Megatronus, after the one Prime who had the clarity to see how far the Thirteen had fallen from their mission. But just as I have brought his fallen title back and taken it to grander heights, I believe that Cybertron can rise again from its dying embers.
 
“My friends, we are strong, and I have every confidence that we will overcome! Let no one tell you otherwise, for each and every one of us holds the divine light of Primus shining within our sparks!” The crowd’s cheers were delighted a mix of joy and reverence - he knew they’d like the phrase.

Thank you for that one, Pax

.
 
“Let no one tell you otherwise - my friends, you are being deceived! But we are strong, and we will receive justice by our own hands. And I salute you! Till all are one!”
 
Megatronus raised his servos in one last victory gesture before preparing to exit the Arena. He had done well tonight - he could feel it in the roar of the crowd and the thrum of agreement from their EM fields - but he still had one last event that night.
 
He didn’t even wait to leave the Arena before calling the librarian.
  
[My fellow Cybertronians, you are being deceived!]
 
The gladiator’s speech played over a live feed at Orion Pax’s workstation. The archivist listened as he looked out the nearby window at the nighttime traffic outside. Outside, the lights of Central Iacon speckled the night like living constellations. Orion gazed pensively out the window, transfixed at the pinpricks of light flowing through the city’s speedways. Thousands of lights, thousands of lives, thousands of other bots he would never know. Whatever were the chances of him ever meeting a Councilor or Aristocrat or anyone from one of the upper classes - so close in the same city, yet so impossibly distant?
 
Yet here he was, about to have yet another conversation with the former mining bot turned gladiator half a planet away. Could Megatron see his own city from a window like Orion did, all the way on the other side of Cybertron? The notion gave him a curious thrill, and as Orion Pax watched the movement of lights out the window, he wondered what Kaon looked like at night.

In Iacon, the people look like rivers of stars,

he thought to himself.
 
[Incoming Video Call ...]
 
He felt his spark jump at the notification ring, suddenly brought back to his workstation. Orion waited a few clicks before accepting the call.
 
Megatronus had promised Orion Pax that he would call after his match, but Orion was not expecting him to call immediately afterward. When an audio-only call request reached his workstation, Orion could still hear the echoes of thousands of bots chanting the gladiator’s name.
 
“Megatronus? Are you in the Arena?” Orion skimmed the Grid for a live video of Arena footage - though it was unlikely he would find anything with decent quality.
 
“I am!”

There

- he found a couple grainy video feeds focused on the gladiator’s figure raising his arms in victory and waving to the crowds. “Ahhh that was a good match!” Kaon’s Champion gave one final parting gesture before he transformed into a fighter jet and thundered out of the Arena, the crowd’s cheers still roaring after him.
 
The spectator's chants faded away into the background and Orion heard the telltale sound of a transformation over the gladiator’s audio feed. The call switched to video, and Orion could see that Megatronus had entered the dark passages for fighters and maintenance crews beneath the Arena. He closed the grainy live feed videos on his secondary windows and turned to the gladiator’s face grinning back from his main holoscreen. Kaon’s Champion looked exhilarated, and the archivist couldn’t hold back a smile of his own.
 
“You have a very energetic fanbase.” Orion noticed, recalling the cheers of Arena patrons.
 
“Are you

jealous,

Pax?” The gladiator sounded almost smug.
 
“Hardly. I only worry what all this adulation and praise is doing to your

ego

.” Megatronus laughed heartily as Orion continued. “You love the attention too much.”
 
“Perceptive,” he could hear the smile in the gladiator’s voice, “you know me well.”

I’ve done my research

- Orion was almost tempted to say. He changed the topic instead. “Congratulations on your most recent victory. Your speech tonight was incredibly powerful.”
 
“Your history lessons inspired me to give one of my own,” the gladiator grinned back at him, crossing his servos as he wondered aloud, “Should I expect that speeches like mine are commonplace in Iacon? Bots unhappy with their lot in life, hoping to become something else? A factory worker, or a gladiator?”
 
“Hardly,” Pax admitted. “No one else would entertain such notions.”
 
The gladiator raised a brow. “Really? Not even notions of ambition - such as rising in position? Ascending to a higher caste? Perhaps even becoming a Councillor?”
 
“Ambition especially is discouraged. Even if I wanted to speak of such things, it would be dangerous to do so. It is unlawful for someone of my position to analyze and question things like the government and caste system restrictions.”
 
“Thus the secret meetings with an upstart gladiator,” Megatronus mused aloud. “Tell me, librarian - what

do

you want? What are you looking for?”
 
Orion stared offscreen, silent for a few klicks while he thought through his answer. “I want to have a conversation with someone who believed that Cybertron could move beyond the caste system. Ours was the race that built the space bridges, that seeded mighty colonies across the stars. Yet with each cycle, the planet sinks further and further into stasis, and closer to a cold death.
 
“I’m looking for a change that promotes the freedom and happiness of all Cybertronians,” Pax concluded, “and I believe you’re the one person who has accomplished anything in that direction. Your words ring of truth, and your life is proof that one’s Guild-chosen caste in life is not the final say in one’s ability or worth.”
 
“You speak with conviction, Orion Pax,” the gladiator said when he finished. “I admire that. But tell me - outside of your archives, what do you know of the rest of Cybertron? Have you ever traveled outside Iacon?”
 
“I have not,” Orion admitted, bitter and a little wistful. “Obtaining a travel visa is a difficult process for a data clerk such as myself, and even if I tried, there is a very likely chance that my application would be denied.”
 
“A gilded cage,” Megatronus murmured.
 
“Have you ever been outside Kaon, Megatronus?”
 
“A long time ago. I was transferred with other workers from the mines in Tarn when sites in Kaon became understaffed.”
 
“I see,” Orion Pax replied, but Megatronus wouldn’t give any more information.
 
Instead, the gladiator surprised him with an unexpected offer. “You should visit Kaon and see it for yourself.”
 
“Visit Kaon?”
 
The invitation stopped Orion’s thoughts in their tracks.

Visit Kaon? I don’t even have a travel authorization, and even if I did, Kaon is far too dangerous! I can’t -

But it made too much sense. He was already doing the mental calculus of what he would need to stay.
 
“It would have to be on a holiday - the travel time from Iacon takes up too much time to stay for anything less than three solar cycles. Perhaps the upcoming solstice festival weekend? A friend of mine might be able to help me with the visa application process, but then I would have to find a place to stay...”
 
“You can leave the accommodations to me,” the gladiator seemed amused by Orion’s stream-of-consciousness planning. “I’ll be your guide when you come to Kaon. Have you ever applied for a travel visa before?”
 
“I have. More than once. I was denied clearance several times before, and never received a reply for another one.”
 
“Is that so?” the gladiator was thoughtful. “Well, Orion Pax, if you can find your way out of that gilded cage of yours, know that you have a friend in Kaon to escort you.”
 
“Thank you, Megatronus,” Orion smiled. “I will see what I can manage.”
 
“Very well. Keep me updated in the meantime,” The gladiator smiled and switched the feed to audio only as he approached a brighter lit place, most likely the medibay. “Well, Pax, do you have any new history lessons for me today?”
 
“I do,” Orion began,  “but I just wanted to say that I really agree with what you said in your speech tonight. The Guilds have no right to decide the fates of sparks and lives across Cybertron - surely the individual knows what they need better than any distant administrator. You articulated it much better, of course.”
 
“Thank you, Pax,” Orion could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m glad you agree.”
 
“As for the history lesson,” the librarian continued, “There was something you said about honor and actions the other day - it reminded me of a quote by Hetronious, a former industrial worker turned military commander turned politician, who rose to prominence in Cybertron’s Golden age.
 
“Really?” Megatron sounded curious, “How so?”

“Let me find the sources...” Orion Pax flipped through his personal saved files at the workstation, “After Cybertron had suffered one of the deadliest battles of the Quintesson War, he gave a powerful speech honoring all the dead and praising their cause. It’s a tragedy that not many people know about it.  “Here, I’m sending you an annotated collection of his works. There’s also a compilation of other firsthand writings by other prominent figures from Cybertron’s Golden Age if you’re interested in reading and cross-referencing with -”

“Would it not be simpler to read them aloud?” Megatron sounded amused, like he was ...laughing?

“Yes,” Orion huffed, irritated and a little embarrassed by the gladiator’s nonchalance. “But it may take a while.”

Megatron only chuckled, “I have time. Read on, Orion Pax.”

{...Such was the Cybertron for whose sake these individuals fought and died; they could not bear the thought that their freedom be taken from them, and have consecrated this battlefield by their sacrifice. A death such as theirs deserves the highest of honors. It ought not to be memorialized in sterile monuments nor framed in the passing poetry of the day, only to be forgotten as the cycles bury it in obscurity.
Their memory deserves to live in the sparks and minds of present and future generations, and
 their sacrifice can only be honored through actions.
 
{It is not only our duty, but our singular purpose - from now until we are one with the Allspark - to honor their deaths in our own lives. We must continue to fight for the freedom they treasured so much. Together, let us honor with our actions these heroes who preferred death to suffering as slaves under the hands of a foreign oppressor. ...}
 
Excerpt from Hetronius’s Funeral Oration

Iacon Archives
 
___
 
Orion Pax had stayed up too late the night before talking with Megatronus, reading first one speech and then another before the gladiator asked about an obscure historical reference. Then the discussion had spun onto a tangent that ran from the Quintesson War to the Great Cataclysm,  to the planet’s origins, then to musical theater and back around to gladiator fights and Arena pageantry.
 
Orion had been too excited to sleep, even after returning late to the berth in his small apartment, and had spent the night reading through the plays and speeches and novelas he had referenced in his conversation with the gladiator. He finally drifted into recharge, only to be woken up what felt like half a cycle later to go to work, already running late.
 
He downed a quick cube of fuel before driving to work, his frame complaining at the lack of sleep all the way to the library. But when Orion walked through the doors of Iacon’s Grand Archives, exhaustion momentarily left him as he stepped into the library’s broad atrium, the grandeur of Golden Age architecture soaring all around him.
 
Even though he had worked there nearly every solar cycle since he could remember, Orion Pax was always impressed by the beauty of Iacon’s Library. There was something noble and timeless about the Archives: its elegant arches climbing up, up, up to the heavenly domes of the ceiling above; sculptures and murals of politicians, heroes, and Primes watching over the library’s patrons from their decorated perches among the vaulted domes; and a reverent silence suffusing the beautiful building like a sweet incense. The Library was a temple and memorial to all the knowledge of Cybertron's past.
 
And it was Orion Pax’s job to archive current knowledge for Cybertron’s future. The librarian allowed himself one last moment to admire the beautiful surroundings before passing beyond the public files to the secured entrance for authorised personnel. The Archive’s security scanners automatically recognized him and opened the first series of security doors to the workspace beyond.
 
The sound of other archivists already cataloguing at their workstations showed Orion that he was not as late as he had originally feared. He walked past the long rows of other data clerks where his old workstation was located. A while ago, he had been promoted from a general clerk to a specialist working under the Grand Archivist Alpha Trion. With his promotion came access to highly classified files and a more demanding workload, but Orion Pax didn’t mind - he enjoyed the challenge.
 
He passed through two more series of security gates on his way to his current workstation, but had barely settled in when a shadow appeared next to him.
 
“Good morning, Orion Pax.”
 
“Master Scrivenus,” Orion turned to greet his supervisor. “Good morning. Is there something I can do for you today?”
 
Scrivenus frowned at the datapad in his servos for a moment before replying. “Recent data usage reports show an increase in data flow from your workstation. While your productivity has been up, I have concerns about the security and contents of your late-night forays into the Grid, particularly the outgoing data streams.”
 
He felt his faceplate heating up. Master Scrivenus hadn’t bothered to step into Orion’s soundproof workstation, and now he was broadcasting their entire conversation to the rest of the office. It was intentional, a power move, and Orion Pax struggled to keep his composure neutral and ignore the pricking of curious audials and EM fields all around the room. “Is there a problem, Master Scrivenus?”
 
His supervisor’s frown deepened, “I would advise you to reduce or cease these outgoing calls in the future.”

“Sir, if my productivity has been up, I don’t see how that’s a problem -”
 
“You are an

archivist

, Pax,” Scrivenus interrupted, “Not a researcher. It’s your job to

record

history, not to study it - let alone interact with a mysterious server from outside Iacon. The Archives are not your personal call center.”
 
Scrivenus must have seen the shock and embarrassment on Orion’s faceplate, because he lowered his voice. “I might have looked the other way when you’ve downloaded books for your personal use, but this is different. The Archives’ encryption doesn’t allow me to view your conversations, but simply the presence of outgoing data can be counted as a violation of both cybersecurity and Guild regulations.”
 
“I understand, Master Scrivenus,” Orion eplied. “I never meant to break any rules. It is merely an innocent curiosity.”
 
“Make sure it

stays

innocent, Pax,” Scrivenus frowned down at him, “I don’t want to file a report on one of my lead clerks. You’re a hard worker, but I doubt Alpha Trion or the Guilds would approve of your late-night

extracurricular

studies.”
 
Scrivenus turned and walked away before Orion had a chance to protest that Alpha Trion had approved his additional Grid usage. He shut his mouth - arguing wouldn’t make a difference, and would only embarrass himself more in front of his fellow data clerks.
 
Not that he was particularly friendly with any of them. Most of Orion’s coworkers were more interested in categorizing data and clocking out than poring through Iacon’s library for fun. Orion Pax was a lone oddity, and he knew that even the senior archivists working under Alpha Trion thought him strange for enjoying the work so much. But Orion’s passion for research had more than made up for loneliness at his job. At least until now.  
 
In the safety of his workstation, Orion Pax could speak more freely with Megatronus than he had with any of his friends in Iacon, let alone the other data clerks. His conversations with Kaon’s champion gladiator had opened Orion’s optics and taught him so much more than he had ever expected. Even more than that, Megatronus listened to him - and in those late-night conversations, it felt like for once someone was seeing him for the first time. Not Orion Pax the quiet archivist or awkward data clerk, but Orion Pax the individual.
 
He had never broken any rules in his life, but this was one regulation Orion would bend as far as he could.

Maccadam’s was busy as usual tonight, and the air around the pub hummed pleasantly with the buzz of EM fields and friendly chatter. Orion stood at a tall corner table, out of the way of other bar patrons. Jazz had gone up to the counter to order drinks while they waited for Ratchet to arrive. The archivist stared absently at the growing crowd around the pub, thoughts far away from the thrum and chatter of Iacon’s middle castes getting off work.
 
His head buzzed with unprocessed thoughts from the past several solar cycles. Megatronus had invited him to Kaon. The gladiator’s invitation had been unexpected, but the more he thought about it, the more logical it seemed. They had been talking for a while now, why not the chance to meet in person? It would be impossible for Megatronus to meet him in Iacon, but he might have the slightest of chances to meet his friend in Kaon. He hadn’t applied for a travel visa since before his promotion to Alpha Trion’s watch - perhaps he stood a slightly better chance of being accepted with the relative raise in status.

“

You’re quieter than usual.”
 
It took Orion a moment to realize Jazz was speaking to him. It took him another moment to pull together a response. “Sorry. I’m just ...thinking”
 
“I can see that,” Jazz handed Orion a glowing cube as he continued. “Which means you need a couple of drinks. Buzzed Orion is chatty Orion.”
 
He raised a brow at that. “Oh really? Then what is drunk Orion?”
 
“Party Orion,” the librarian’s skeptical expression got a hearty laugh out of Jazz. “Honestly, that’s just a guess. I’ve never actually seen you drunk before.”
 
“Let’s keep it that way,” Orion rolled his optics as his friend chuckled across the table.
 
“Seriously, OP, what’s up?” Jazz must’ve sensed his reluctance, because he prodded, this time gentler, “Is it about your gladiator friend?”
 
“Yes, it is.” Orion finally admitted with an ex-vent. “He invited me to meet him in Kaon.”  
 
“Oh. That’s interesting,” Jazz swirled his drink with a frown. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
 
“Neither was I, but... he asked.”
 
“Hm,” Jazz gave the swirling liquid in his glass a hard, thoughtful look. “I can’t say that I like the idea. Kaon is nothing like Iacon, and even if it was, how do you know you can trust what he says?”
 
“He’s not the kind to lie,” Orion recalled the gladiator's

‘Lies and Deception’

tirade from the earlier, “and he has been truthful so far.”
 
“And if he isn’t?” Jazz pressed. “Or if something happens to you? If you get hurt, or if you never come back to Iacon? Do you really want to take that risk?”
 
“I would rather take that risk than rust away like a caged animal in the capital.”
 
Jazz was silent for a while. He studied Orion’s steely optics for several long cycles before finally asking him, “Do you want to go?”
 
“Yes, I want to go,” Orion decided. He took a moment to pause as the bitter taste of regret welled up in the back of his intake. “But I don’t think I can. I’ve never been outside Iacon because I’ve never been accepted for a travel visa.”
 
“Hmm...” Jazz was watching him - Orion could feel it - but the librarian concentrated on the drink in front of him as his friend spoke. “I think I might be able to help with that.”
 
“Really?” Orion’s attention snapped up at the unexpected answer.
 
“I think so,” Jazz looked thoughtful now, a faint smile playing at the edge of his faceplate as he contemplated his options. “It’s a very likely possibility,”
 
“What’s a likely possibility?” Ratchet asked from behind them. He must have found them in the crowd.
 
“That I was about to take your drink if you didn’t show up soon,” Jazz grinned and handed Ratchet the extra cube of high grade he’d picked up from the bar. The doctor only rolled his optics and shook his helm before accepting the glass.
 
They fell into an easy conversation, much more lively and comfortable than any of Orion’s interactions with his fellow data clerks had ever been. Ratchet and Jazz carried the conversation, but Orion didn’t mind. He preferred listening anyway, and The ebb and flow of bar patrons was a pleasant soundtrack and buffer around their chatter. It took them several cycles of drinks and work gossip before Jazz finally broached the subject of visiting Kaon.
 
“It’s like this,” Jazz took the glass mixer out of his drink and started using it to draw invisible figures in the air, “So, I’m doing a report on the badlands - you know: Kaon, Slaughter City - but all I’ve been getting is second- and third-hand accounts that are dozens of solar cycles old. Very outdated, and very inaccurate.
 
“It’s like,” he was jabbing with the mixer now, clearly energized by his glass of Visco, “I’m

here

in Iacon, expected to complete my job with incomplete information that’s all the way over

here

in Kaon -”  Jazz frowned, realized he needed another prop for his demonstration, and plucked the straw from Ratchet’s drink.
 
“Jazz, I needed that!” The doctor was not impressed.  
 
“I’ll get you another one,” he promised with a wave of the straw. “So, the information I need is over

here

in Kaon, but I don’t really have the means of collecting it as long as I stay in Iacon. I can do my report, but I’ll only be investigating old, outdated information. What’s the point of that?”
 
“Where are you going with this?” Ratchet still wasn’t impressed.
 
“Look, I’ve been thinking: it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to be a cultural investigator and only study people from a distance - it’s like looking at an alien planet through a telescope. Yeah, you can see all the data, but do you actually

know

what the planet is like? How the atmosphere tastes? How the people live? What myths and stories they tell about their origins? How am I going to properly investigate if I’m stuck doing my job at the stuffy end of a telescope? And even if I

do

get to the other side of that telescope, how am I going to record all that information once I get there? I’m a researcher - I know what to

do

with the data, but I don’t know the first thing about recording it effectively.”
 
Orion was slightly buzzed at the swell of high grade coursing through his systems, but he had a feeling where his friend was going with this. “Are you saying you want to go to Kaon?”
 
“I’m saying that I want to go to Kaon, but I need an assistant. Someone who can harvest the data and raw information I need to complete my report, someone who knows their way around the Grid, someone with connections - someone like a senior data archivist.” He pointed at Orion with the straw to punctuate his thesis. “Orion Pax,

you

could be my assistant.”
 
“No, he couldn’t,” Ratchet immediately shut him down before Orion had a chance to say anything. “That’s a terrible idea. Jazz, you’re a terrible influence.”
 
“Yes, he could,” Jazz insisted. “And I’m a

wonderful

influence. I’m a cultural investigator - I investigate culture - and I’ve been working on a cultural report on the culture of the badlands that needs some firsthand cultural research. All I need to do is put in a travel request for Kaon, get us our visas, and BAM! -  we’re off. Culture.”
 
“Even if

you

can, that doesn’t mean

Orion

won’t get in trouble!”
 
“That’s a simple fix,” Jazz shrugged. “I’ll put it in the travel request that I need Orion to help with data collection.”
 
Ratchet still looked unconvinced, and Jazz softened his tone. “Honestly - once you have that first ‘in’ it’s so much easier to get a travel visa for every time afterwards. One of the first things they help you do once you’re an official Investigator is get you set up with travel clearance. It’s more of a safety procedure to keep ‘bots from crowding the mag-lev trains than anything else.”
 
Orion Pax didn’t think he believed that, but he stayed quiet as Jazz turned to him.
 
“Orion, I can get you set up with the needed clearance. Once your application is accepted, you tell me when you have the time off work, and we can go to Kaon together,” Jazz finished his proposal and looked at him. “So, what do you say, OP?”
 
“I’ve never been outside of Iacon,” the archivist admitted. “But if I had the chance to travel, I would very much like to go.”
 
“Are you sure about this?” Ratchet looked at him with concern in his optics. “Kaon is far from a tourist destination. You’d be going into one of the most dangerous cities on the planet.”
 
Orion Pax knew this, of course, but he wanted to take that chance. He

had

to. Staying in Iacon for the rest of his life and only seeing the rest of the world through secondhand Grid entries was a prison sentence. It was seeing without truly

seeing

- and speaking with Megatron had set aflame a desire to experience more than just the city lights of Cybertron’s capital, however beautiful.
 
“I am aware of the risks,” Orion declared, “but I want to go. If it’s possible, I would like to visit Kaon and meet Megatron in person.”
 
Ratchet shook his helm and clucked, but otherwise relented. “Jazz, you’re an enabler. If anything happens to him, I’m coming for

you

.”
 
“We’ll be

fine

Ratchet,” Jazz reassured him. “Besides, what are you going to

do

? Stab me with a scalpel when I come in for a checkup?”
 
“Ohhh you have no idea,” Ratchet mumbled something about chemicals in glasses of Visco, but otherwise relented. Orion smothered a laugh.
 
Jazz grinned at Orion and gave him a conspiratorial wink. The archivist beamed back. They could go to Kaon; all that remained was the bureaucratic legwork and actual traveling. A refreshing mix of excitement and terror rushed through his spark as he realized that the impossible could actually happen.  
 
He was going to meet Megatron.
 
***

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

A holovid of Megatronus’s speech played in the background of his office as Alpha Trion tapped his quill on the Covenant in front of him. He wasn’t focused on either at the moment - instead staring intently at a transcripted conversation scrolling in real-time through a holoscreen perched on the corner of his desk. Orion Pax was talking with the gladiator again.  
 
M [When are you arriving?]

OP [Midday - it takes nearly half a solar cycle to get to Kaon from Iacon.]

M [Tell me when you arrive. I can meet you at the station.]

OP [Thank you, I will.]
 
So. It was happening at last. The Covenant had hinted at the beginning of chaotic times just over the horizon for Cybertron, with two larger than life figures leading the way forward. How that future would unfold was yet to be determined, yet it had rapidly become clear to Alpha Trion that the gladiator and young archivist would be at the forefront of this coming era.
 
All things considered, Orion Pax was not the figure Alpha Trion would have expected or even chosen to lead Cybertron. He was diligent, inquisitive, and humble - but could also be emotional and naive. He was proud of his student’s progress, but the young archivist still had much to learn and experience. It was good that he was going to visit Megatronus in Kaon.
 
Nevertheless, it was becoming apparent to the Archivist that his protege was rapidly growing into a role that neither he nor Orion’s gladiator friend entirely understood. Alpha Trion himself was uncertain of the details, and the Covenant on his desk remained ambiguous and silent on the finer points . He had told Orion Pax that he could temper the gladiator’s excesses, and so far Alpha Trion had been pleasantly proven correct.
 
Iacon’s Archivist had known about Orion Pax’s personal archive of saved files for a long time now, and had even encouraged the young data clerk’s activities. It did his spark good to see the young mech interested in the meaning behind the data he pored through every solar cycle.
 
A little while ago, Scrivenus had complained about Orion’s outgoing data usage, threatening to report him to the Guilds. Alpha Trion had shut him down almost immediately. It was a reprimand without malice - Scrivenus meant well, but the Archivist wasn’t about to prevent Megatronus and Orion Pax from interacting.
 
Alpha Trion pitied Scrivenus. He was a mech who had been missorted by the Guilds years ago. Scrivenus had been like Orion when he was younger, though much more extroverted, competitive, and eager to please. The caste system had trapped him in his position as an archivist for the rest of his life. Alpha Trion had watched as a younger Scrivenus simmered for years under that silent frustration. Now Scrivenus was older - sad and bitter for reasons that he probably was not even aware of, let alone could articulate. The Archivist couldn’t let that happen to Orion Pax.
 
And now Orion was going to Kaon to meet Megatronus in person. Alpha Trion listened as the gladiator’s words replayed on the holoscreens around him. He knew he had made the right decision, encouraging Orion Pax to befriend Megatronus. He only hoped that the archivist and the gladiator would make the right decisions for Cybertron.

____

He was going to Kaon. He was going to Kaon today.
 
Orion Pax had never rode on the ultrafast maglev train before. In fact, he had never gone farther than the outskirts of Iacon city. He had always been intimidated by the towering bureaucracy of forms and paperwork needed for someone of his caste to obtain a simple travel visa between cities, and he never had a reason to leave the capital before.
 
Jazz’s expertise and social status as a cultural investigator had helped them breeze through the visa application process. He assured Orion that the initial registration was the most difficult, and obtaining a travel pass for every trip afterwards would be much easier. That was a relief.
 
They took the earliest train from Iacon Station. While Jazz promptly nodded off and slept through every stop until their destination, Orion Pax marveled at the rapidly moving scenery as they sped on to Kaon. Cities and wastelands and landmarks he had only ever seen in holographs from his workstation were now passing by, solemn and serene. He felt as though the sight of them alone was proof of these faraway titans saying, “We are here. We are real.” The thought sent a giddy thrill through his spark, and he drank the scenery up through greedy, delighted optics.
 
When they finally arrived at Kaon’s main station, Jazz surprised Orion with news he was not expecting. “Well OP, this is where we part ways.” Seeing the alarm on his friend’s face, Jazz quickly added, “until we meet for the train back - I’m not abandoning you.”
 
“You’re not coming with me?” Orion felt panic rising in his chest. “Jazz, I’ve never been to Kaon before! I don’t know my way around - what if something happens?”
 
“Hey,” Jazz put a comforting hand on Orion’s shoulder. “You’re going to be okay. If anything happens, you call me, or call the police. It’s a holiday, and they’ll be on alert for any trouble. Especially if you’re a citizen from Iacon.”  
 
Orion raised an eyebrow and shifted uncomfortably. His friend continued.

“Besides,” Jazz gave a conciliatory shrug, “I don’t think your gladiator friend would appreciate having me around as a third wheel. He is

your

friend, after all.”
 
“Right.”
 
“I can stay with you until you meet up with him, if that helps.”
 
Orion relaxed a bit at that. “Yes, that would help. Thank you.”
 
_______
 
Megatronus checked and refreshed his incoming message queue, then refreshed it again. The trip to the Kaon’s main station was relatively short when traveling in his jet mode, but he had arrived there even earlier than he had already planned. Which was early - and it probably wasn’t the best idea. Orion had only just arrived at the station, but Megatronus had been waiting and watching the station traffic for what felt like long cycles now.
 
He had chosen a shadowed vantage point, his back against a pillar at the top of the weathered pavilion steps, which had the dual benefit of granting him a wide view of station traffic while keeping him relatively obscured from curious optics.
 
His battle protocols were acting up, however, on high alert with the heavy stream of traffic going to and from the station. Megatronus was hoping to avoid confrontation from overzealous fans or would-be challengers attempting to get the jump on him outside the arena. A cowardly move on their part - and it annoyed him more than anything. Sometimes being a celebrity had its drawbacks.   
 
He checked the messages again. Orion had just gotten through the gates and was moving toward the pavillion now. Megatronus scanned the Station gate for the archivist’s familiar blue and red plating.

There

- he saw Pax walk down the main entry steps a moment before he heard the familiar ping of a message.
 
[I’m outside. Where are you?]
 
[I see you. Stay there. I’m coming.] Megatronus saw Orion’s helm pop up. The archivist’s expression was intent as he scanned the pavillion for his friend, and the gladiator grinned.

Get ready, Pax.

He was going to make an entry.
 
Megatronus transformed into his jet mode and thundered over the pavillion. He’d done entries like this hundreds of times in the arena, and the crowds always drank it up like a glass of rich high-grade. He timed his climb perfectly and transformed back to root mode when he was right above the open space near Orion.
 
He landed, slamming into the ground in a perfect three-point pose. All optics in the pavilion gawked at the sight of the champion gladiator who had materialized from the sky and was now drawing himself up to his full height in front of a smaller, red and blue bot.

He’s shorter than I expected

, thought Megatronus. Amusement played across his faceplate as he watched the stunned archivist regain his composure. “Orion Pax, I presume.”
 
“Megatronus,” Orion broke into a delighted grin. “It’s so good to see you!”
 
“The pleasure is all mine.” Megatronus gave a little bow and made a gracious gesture with his arms. “Welcome to Kaon, my friend. Come - allow me to show you around.”

Orion waved goodbye to a black and white bot and followed after the gladiator, keeping pace. Megatronus looked at him, curious, “Friend of yours?”   
 
“Yes. He’s here for work.”
 
Megatronus raised a brow. “I hadn’t realized Kaon was such a popular destination for data clerks.”  
 
“He’s a cultural investigator, actually - helped me with the travel documents to come here.”
 
“Really!” That was interesting. “You have a talent for making friends, Orion.”
 
“Oh? ...I suppose so. Thank you,” he seemed embarrassed, not entirely sure how to respond to the gladiator’s comment. “Where are we going first?”
 
“Rest assured, I have a tour planned out,” he turned and gestured for the librarian to follow. “You’ll want to drive.”
 
They left the station and transformed. Orion Pax followed after him as Megatronus lead the way deep into the heart of Kaon.
_____
The first thing about Kaon that impressed Orion Pax was the sheer chaotic energy crawling, driving, and clamoring through the city’s dirty streets. A gritty, sulfurous blanket of smog hung over Kaon the farther they went from the station, smothering the sky and the tops of taller spires so only the eerie glow of biolights showed through the haze.
 
Everywhere in Kaon - from the main highways to the tangle of narrow alleyways that descended underground - was a patchwork of partially-repaired roads and grungy alleyways.  Here and there, colorful advertisements and store signs brightened buildings in varying stages of decay and repair. The city itself felt dirty and wary and barely holding itself together. The bots who lived there looked to be in a similar state.
 
Orion didn’t have much time to stare, as Megatronus was guiding him through a brisk tour of medium sized streets while in his jet mode. As he followed his gladiator friend in vehicle mode, Orion felt a sudden pang of terror when he realized he wouldn’t be able to find his way back to the station alone.
 
“And finally, we have arrived!” Orion was jolted out of his thoughts by Megatronus’s declaration. The gladiator transformed back to root mode and Orion followed suit. Kaon’s Champion stood straight and proud as any Councillor delivering a speech as he gestured at the colossal structure before them. “Welcome to my domain - Kaon’s Grand Arena! Home of gladiators and champions!”
 
Orion had to step back to take in the entire spectacle  - the Arena was

enormous

! The images he had seen through the Grid hardly represented the scope and scale of the place. Orion was vaguely aware that he was staring, and that Megatronus was watching him take in the scene. The gladiator seemed to be enjoying his reaction.
 
“How do they keep this hidden?” He wondered aloud. The place was enormous! Wasn’t gladiator fighting supposed to be illegal?
 
“Bribery, bent rules, the inevitability of bots fighting one another in the streets, so why not give them a proper place to do it anyway,” Megatronus shrugged, “Plus it helps that this place is mostly underground. The Arena brings in so much business from across Kaon and from wealthy patrons who visit from outside that the city’s government turned a blind optic to the Grand Arena’s operations mega-cycles ago.”
 
“I can’t imagine how much one would need to bribe and bend the rules to keep this an unofficial secret.” Orion was impressed, but not entirely in a positive way.
 
“Some secrets are best when they’re unofficial,” The gladiator’s optics twinkled with a mixture of mischief and pride as he turned and started walking toward the Arena entrance. “Come, I can show you around. There’s a place where we can talk more freely before tonight’s match.”
 
“You have a match?!” Orion hurried to match his friend’s longer stride.
 
Megatronus grinned back at him, “But of course! It’s the holiday celebration, after all - you’ll be getting a proper welcome to Kaon tonight!” He added, “Don’t worry, I won’t die.”
 
“Good, because I don’t think I could find my way back to the station if you did,” that got a hearty laugh out Kaon’s Champion. Orion Pax felt himself smile as the two friends entered the Arena’s catacombs, the gladiator’s laughter echoing around them.
 
____
 
Megatronus’s tour of the Arena took them through a network of near-identical hallways, past training grounds where gladiators were sparring, briefly peeking at the entry to the gladiator barracks, and through other places Orion immediately forgot the names of once they moved onto the next location. Megatronus even pointed out the place where Orion would be sitting that night - apparently, champion gladiators had a special box where they could sit or invite guests.
 
“You’ll be over here, in my corner,” Megatronus pointed to a box of ringside seats near one of The Arena’s massive entry doors.
 
“That’s right up front!”
 
“It’s the best spot in the house,” The gladiator said with pride, “You may be sharing it with wealthy patrons from outside Kaon, or some lucky locals. Your spot is reserved through the entire weekend.”
 
Orion wanted to ask more, but Megatronus was already moving onto the next location of the tour. The gladiator explained the whole matter very casually and guided them further around the Pit grounds without much ceremony. Orion quietly wondered how much the wealthier Cybertronians paid for a seat like his. He felt his tank churn when he realized it was probably more credits than he would ever see in his lifetime.
 
“And finally, we’ll move on to the communications center,” Megatronus led the way through the darkened catacombs beneath the Arena. “The place isn’t actually connected to the Pit, but it’s close enough, and also the most secure place to stay in this side of Kaon. Soundwave often uses it as a satellite workstation.”

Soundwave

- the name was familiar. Orion remembered seeing a visored, dark blue bot in several of the video calls he had with Megatronus, but had never properly spoken to the faceless gladiator before. Soundwave was mostly silent, staying off to the side and busying himself with data screens and the minibots that followed him around.
 
“Ravage or one of the other minibots might join you tonight.”
 
“Ravage?”
 
“A friend. He helps Soundwave with surveillance,” the gladiator explained. He looked around the arena and nodded, “That should be enough for the Arena tour until tonight. Let’s move onto the communications hub.”
 
The place was impossible to find without a guide. Megatronus took him through the winding catacombs, into old subway tunnels turned into rusted highways, and into a crumbling neighborhood far beyond the Arena. Orion felt his tank clench as he looked around the neighborhood of dilapidated, sunken buildings. He soon realized that the surroundings was the perfect facade to hide the facility inside.
 
They entered through a heavy blast door disguised as a wall after Megatronus entered a security code in a hidden panel. Orion’s optics widened as they stepped into the room behind it. The light of multiple holoscreens reflected off shiny workstations and filled the room with a warm, neon glow. A smaller, beastlike minibot was resting atop a chair. It appeared languid and disinterested but for the forward angle of its audials and the intermittent flicking of its tail.
 
“Ravage, is anyone else here?”

So that was Ravage

- Orion stored the knowledge away in his memory files.
 
“Soundwave’s out with Lazerbeak,” the minibot replied, “The gremlin twins are spying on people at the arena.”
 
“We have

names

, you know,” called a voice from a workstation in the far corner of the room. “And we’re not

spying

, we’re

working

!”
 
Orion Pax turned around to look over at the minibot who had spoken when another minibot sitting next to him said, “Ha,

nerd

. I’m playing Galaxy Destroyer 5000!”
 
“Fragging afthead! I thought we were gonna play that game together!”
 
“Well, I changed my mind!”
 
“Orion Pax, meet Rumble and Frenzy,” Megatronus gestured to the bickering minibots who were now yelling and shoving one another. Neither one was spying or playing holo-games anymore. The gladiator didn’t specify which minibot was which and moved on with his tour.
 
“Here’s the spare room with a recharge berth,” the door opened with a wave of the gladiator’s servo. “You can use this during your stay. It’s quiet, and you should be comfortable and unbothered here.”
 
“Thank you, I appreciate it.” He did - finding a place to recharge was one of Orion’s bigger concerns when he was planning the trip to Kaon. The city wasn’t known for being a tourist destination for middle-caste workers like him, and he doubted the scruples and security of any hotel he

could

afford. Orion looked back at the illuminated workstations and wondered what sort of Grid access Soundwave had set up. “Would it be possible to -”
 
His question was cut short by a yell from the main room. One of the minibots - Rumble? Or was it Frenzy? Orion wasn’t sure - had the other pinned to the ground and was gloating as the other tried and failed to get back up. “haha-ha! I’ve got you!”
 
“Help! Murder!” The minibot with his helm pressed into the ground struggled to get away from his twin. “Somebody stop Rumble - he’s murdering me!”
 
“Have fun,” the catlike transformer sounded disinterested, even bored, as the two smaller bots struggled on the ground.  
 
Orion Pax was much more concerned. “Is he hurting you?”

“He hurts me a lot.”
 
“But is it consensual?” Orion didn’t get an answer - Rumble and Frenzy were wrestling again, grappling and yelling at one another.  Megatron was laughing too, further encouraging the two minibots’ struggles. Orion raised a brow at Ravage. Without missing a beat, the catformer nodded back.
 
Frenzy and Rumble’s shrieks were cut short by an opening click-whoosh from the room’s main door. Soundwave stepped into the communication center, a winged minibot perched on his shoulder. Ravage leapt off his seat to greet the new arrivals. Rumble and Frenzy yelled greetings at Soundwave and the winged minibot - Lazerbeak -  but were still wrestling on the floor and didn’t join Ravage right away.
 
“Orion Pax, meet Soundwave. One of Kaon’s best gladiators, and an even better spy,” Megatronus proudly declared. “He can find out anything about anyone. If you ever need information, or if you ever need to disappear, Soundwave is the bot you should ask.”  
 
“Appreciated,” The masked bot’s voice was neutral and metallic.
 
“It’s good to meet you, Soundwave.” Orion extended a servo in greeting.
 
“Likewise, Orion Pax.” Soundwave clasped the offered servo.  
 
“Soundwave, have you been to the training grounds today?” Megatronus asked.
 
“Negative.”
 
“Me neither. What do you say we warm up for a few rounds and show Pax how Kaon’s best fight?”
 
“Don’t you have a match tonight?” Orion asked.
 
“Not until later,” Megatronus grinned and turned toward the other gladiator, “Soundwave, are you up for sparring practice?”
 
The visored gladiator answered with a wordless nod and moved back to the door. The winged minibot flew back over to Soundwave and nestled into an opening in his chassis with a solid click. Rumble and Frenzy abandoned their wrestling match on the floor and scrambled after Soundwave.
 
“You’re in for a show,” Ravage told Orion as he followed after Soundwave and the rest of his minibot entourage.
 
Kaon’s Champion smiled over at Orion, delighted with the chance to show off in front of the archivist. Orion couldn’t help but grin back as Megatronus turned and led the way out of the communications hub.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

[Incoming Message][Source: Management][Recipient: Champion, Megatronus][Summons: Report to Manager’s office before match tonight.] The message came in the middle of sparring practice with Soundwave, but Megatronus put off answering it for as long as possible. He detested being summoned to the manager’s office, detested being told what to do, especially by someone like Clench. And especially when he was enjoying himself so much. Sparring matches with Soundwave were always satisfying - few other gladiators could match his combination of cunning and experience. While Megatronus had the advantage of strength, Soundwave’s arsenal of speed, tricks and minibot helpers kept Kaon’s Champion alert and constantly on his pedes. The other gladiators in the training yard had stopped what they were doing to watch two of Iacon’s best spar. Orion’s reaction to their sparring match had been even more satisfying. The librarian had stared, optics bright and wide as the two gladiators moved around each other in a dangerous dance. He cheered whenever either of them landed a solid hit or executed a satisfying maneuver. With an audience like that, Megatronus couldn’t help but show off. He had waited until they finished their sparring session before heading straight to the Manager’s office. By then the ping of alerts in the background of his personal link had grown unbearable. Fine - if Clench thought it was a good idea to hound him until he finally went to his office, Megatronus would make the meeting as unpleasant as possible. He waited longer than necessary outside the Manager’s office doors - definitely a power play on Clench’s part - before they finally slid open and one of the Arena Manger’s lackeys led him in. He brushed past the unimpressive doorman and strode right up to the broad desk that framed his adversary like a Council Member. “The champion arrives!” Arena Manager Clench greeted him brightly as he entered the office. Too brightly, he thought. Megatronus had disliked the Manager since the first time they met. Clench reminded him too much of the cruel bots who ran the mines - calculating, more concerned with filling a quota than watching after the wellbeing of the bots who worked under them. But Clench was worse than the mine managers because he pretended to care - put on a mask of civility and friendliness while threatening and bartering lives. Lies and deception . But Clench was his boss, and Megatronus wasn’t looking to get on the manager’s bad side. He kept his tone and expression neutral. “You wanted to see me?” “I did,” Clench spread his fingers so they peaked together, his voice dripping saccharrine poison as he continued, “I want to congratulate you on your unprecedented winning streak and popularity - you certainly have a way of winning over the crowds.” “Appreciated,” He acknowledged Clench’s complement with a slight nod of his helm. “But that isn’t why you called me here, is it?” “No, it isn’t,” he sighed, dropped a hand to his desk and picked up some trinket from his desk. Out with it, already! - Megatronus fumed in silence as the Arena manager passed his desk trinket back and forth between his servos, building the tension for whatever decree he wanted to make. A former champion gladiator himself, Clench still had a flare for the dramatic. It was annoying. “It has come to my attention,” Clench began, “that sometimes you say things that make arena guests uncomfortable.”  More uncomfortable than watching hundreds of people fight to the death for entertainment? Megatronus wanted to say, but he held his tongue as Clench continued. “The arena is not your pulpit, Megatronus. I have been lenient with you until now, but I can’t ignore the wishes of our generous patrons. Even if you never speak of your ideas again, there are people who are unhappy, and -” He looked Megatronus squarely in the optics, “You need to pay your dues.”    He bristled. “What would you have me do? Speak plainly.” “A few wealthy patrons have placed significant bets against you, and seeing as you’ve never lost a match and don’t seem likely to do so in the future, we need you to lose a few on purpose.” He froze - but the arena manager didn’t seem to notice. “Not every match - mind you - just a couple here and there, something to keep the audience on their pedes.” His gaze locked straight onto Megatronus’s now. “You’re a clever ‘bot, I know you understand the rules.” “In the Arena, there are no rules,” his optics narrowed, glaring cold blue light at Clench, “Only the rule of survival - the strong live, and the weak perish.” “It’s been a while since you’ve had to kill anyone,” Clench countered. “Anyone on your list , you mean!” Megatronus didn’t care that he was yelling now - he felt like his systems were boiling from the inside out. “It’s unprofitable to have your best fighters kill one another, and audiences have mixed feelings about watching a champion tear through novice gladiators that don’t stand a chance.” Clench’s optics narrowed, “Be careful I don’t take you off the list.” Megatronus glared back, a small but savage grin creeping up the sides of his faceplate. “I’d like to see you try.” They locked optics for a tense eternity. The air was electric and charged like a minefield. None of the other bots in the room dared move for fear of breaking the silence. Finally, Clench spoke. His voice was soft like a knife. “Lose a few matches. That is not a request.” “I’ll consider it,” the conversation was over. Megatronus stood up, keeping his optics locked on Clench as he walked to the door. He considered slamming it on the way out, but decided against it - glaring back at the arena manager until the door finally whispered shut.   He marched through the Arena’s catacombs with a cold, steely determination in his chest. Megatronus had a match to win. ____ With a little help from the minibots, Orion Pax found his way back to the guest box Megatronus had shown him on his earlier tour. He flashed the token Megatronus had given him to the security guards, who nodded and let him through. They seemed to know Frenzy and Rumble, and traded greetings with the two minibots. “See ya later, Ravage, Orion,” Frenzy waved back at them. “You’re not staying?” Orion asked. “Nah, we got work,” Rumble chimed in, “Someone’s gotta run around the place and make sure the coppers stay distracted.” “Last one to the refuel tanks has to pay for drinks tonight!” Frenzy ran off laughing, Rumble cursed and scrambled after him. Orion looked over at Ravage, “Do you have to work too?” “Not tonight,” Ravage replied as they found their seats. “Lazerbeak is helping Soundwave with his match. I’ll keep you company.” “Thank you, Ravage,” Orion added, “I appreciate it. Even though I’ve seen plenty of videos before, I don’t know what to expect.” “That’s right - it’s your first time,” Ravage stretched thoughtfully, “You’re lucky the gremlin twins are more interested with causing trouble somewhere else. They tend to get excited, and a real life pit fight is a lot more intense than what you might’ve seen on holovids.” Orion wanted to ask more, but a sudden glare of neon lights and loud blast of music from the Arena’s announcement system prompted an uproar from the audience. The opening ceremony was beginning. “KAON ARE YOU READY?” The crowd thundered back in approval, “Mechs and femmes! Bots of every alt mode and city! Welcome to the greatest ring in all of Cybertron, proving grounds of gladiators, and home of champions! WELCOME TO KAON’S GRAND ARENA!” The noise was deafening. Orion looked around at the crowd, drinking up the sight and sound and smell of so many Cybertronians packed into a single place. Much of the audience was made up of larger bots with the alt-modes of industrial workers, most likely members of the lower castes who lived in Kaon. However, a surprising percentage of spectators were members of the upper classes - obvious by their brighter paint jobs and sleeker frames. Orion spotted bots who could have been celebrity entertainers, scientists, government officials, and even winged aristocrats from the flier city of Vos. Several of these fancier patrons had seats in the same section where Orion Pax was sitting. Surrounded by the elegant forms of upper caste elites and dwarfed by the hulking figures of powerful industrial workers, Orion felt terribly awkward and acutely out of place. But on the other hand, he marveled at the magnetism of the Arena that could bring together so many different bots, from so many different backgrounds. And they were cheering together. The sight of so many voices and sparks united would have made Orion’s own spark swell with hope if it wasn’t for the reality that people were about to be murdered. An unpleasant reminder - he swallowed a rising lump of nausea and turned his attention back to the pit below. Arena games began with a dramatic opening ceremony - more like a play or musical performance than an actual battle - before moving onto the variety show of matches. He checked the night’s program on his holoscreen. Higher ranked gladiators always appeared later, and Megatronus’s match was the last one tonight.   Orion felt a swell of pride for his friend. Of course he’d be last - he’s the champion . In the meantime, he was about to witness real life gladiator fights for the first time. He wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, but Orion knew it would be gruesome. He took a deep in-vent of air and scanned the Arena, wondered if anyone else there looked as anxious as he felt. The faces around him were smiling and cheering - only anxious for the match to begin.  Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as he thought , Orion hoped as the Arena’s theme music blared out of a thousand invisible speakers and bots started marching onto the black Pit sands. It The opening performances were about to begin. ___ 
It took Megatronus a long time to calm down from his meeting with Clench. His rage finally dulled to a burning ache, only to flare up again when he looked at the roster for his match that evening. He was up against nearly 20 up-and-coming gladiators in an elimination match. There would be only one victor. Some of the gladiators might have wanted to face him in the Pits, and might have thought they actually had chance of taking his Champion title; however, he suspected most of them had gotten on Clench’s bad side and were put into the elimination match as punishment.

One shall stand, one shall fall

, he thought bitterly. What a waste of talent. It would be a mass killing - death by Champion - all presented under the guise of gladiator rivalries. Lies and deception, not from the despicable Guilds and Sentinel Prime’s Council, but by a former gladiator who had gotten drunk on his own importance. And yet Clench was still a slave to money, to power, and to the politics of patrons who would never truly accept someone whose origins were at the very bottom of Cybertron’s caste system. Tragic really, but the Arena Manager was a terrible person, and Megatronus had no sympathy for him.
 
He watched fights play on the screens positioned around the atrium where he waited with other gladiators for his turn. Their demeanors ranged from anxious to sullen to bombastic, and he made a point of encouraging everyone in the room. He wondered how Orion Pax was doing out in the audience; it was the librarian’s first visit to Kaon, and Megatronus got the impression that his friend didn’t frequent pit fights in Iacon very much.
 Eventually, Megatronus was the only gladiator left in the waiting room. He watched the holoscreens and waited until he saw the signal from the bots at the door. Then it was time to go. He stretched, rotated his shoulders, and took a running start toward the opening gate.

With the roar of the crowd all around him, Megatronus transformed into his jet mode and shot out into the Arena like a bolt of lightning. The crowd thundered its approval as he flew in spiraling loops, leaving sonic echoes chasing after him like footsteps. 
MEGATRONUS! MEGATRONUS! MEGATRONUS!
 
His spark swelled with pride. The arena was his domain - the place where he had earned a name, an identity, and a deadly skillset. He had come so far from his original lot in life as a disposable mining bot. The Arena loved him, and he loved the thrill of the Arena - loved the avalanche of praise, hard-won through thousands of battles and even more extinguished sparks. In the Arena, he was most alive.

He transformed and landed, looked around.

Where was Orion?

Megatronus had asked Ravage to watch after the archivist - he was the calmest of all the minibot posse, and Lazerbeak had fought with Soundwave a few matches earlier.

There

- he grinned even wider when he finally spotted the blue and red plating of the archivist’s helm. Orion was much smaller than the hulking industrial workers who packed the stadium, and less gaudy than the wealthier guests who paid top credit for a coveted spot. The librarian clung anxiously to his perch in the box, but his expression changed from worry to joy when Megatronus caught his gaze.
 
He felt a warm roar of pride flare up in his chassis. His friend was here, in his Arena, and the gladiator thrilled as he saw Orion’s bright optics cheering for him. He was about to give them all a show.
 
“Till all are one!” Megatronus raised his right servo to the sky, and the Arena bellowed back.
 
TIL ALL ARE ONE!
 
He scanned the Pit, battle protocols kicking into high gear. Ten other gladiators were moving on the far side of the Arena, four more edging behind him, and an unknown number hiding in the scattered detritus from previous matches. Strategies flashed through the Champion’s processor - he could cut through the opponents to his left, working his way clockwise to a better vantage point. He could use one of the half-destroyed towers as cover to pick off the rest, but would have to watch out for other enemies who were certainly lurking in the debris.
 
“The challenge for Title of Arena Champion begins... -” Megatronus rolled his shoulders and sunk into a fighting stance. The tension stretched as the Announcer stretched out the pause between the last word, until finally the entire Pit echoed with the audial-crushing command. “NOW!”  
 
He sprinted across the Arena’s gray-black sands, kicking up heavy clods of energon-soaked sand from previously slain gladiators. Three gladiators, thinking they could team up against the Arena’s Champion, rushed him together and were promptly cut down - a brave but stupid strategy, really. They would’ve stood a better chance at survival had they killed one another first, then focused on staying alive until there were fewer fighters left.  
 
Onto the next group. He he flew in an arc around to the towers. He saw some of the other gladiators fighting among each other and left them to their own fights. He’d pick them off later.
 
He made it to the ruined scenery, flying low enough to scope out the twisted scrapyard below and flush concealed opponents out of hiding. Several streams of powerful blasters tore through the air beside and behind him, but Megatronus was moving too fast for them to hit.
 
He flew upward and over, transformed, and dropped from the sky to a tower below, sword out and ion cannon blazing. The floor beneath him sagged with a tremendous shriek as the wrecked metal and concrete crashed down several levels. He noticed the other gladiator’s biolights just in time to dodge the volley of energon blasts from the other’s servo cannons.
 
In two swift movements, Megatronus had the smaller gladiator pinned under his servos. A moment later, he was torn in half. Kaon’s Champion climbed up to the top of the tower, raised the leaking halves of his opponent, and threw one half down, then the other. The second projectile slammed into the side of a flier who was barreling straight at him. The unfortunate jet was knocked into the side of another derelict building and picked off by cannon fire from another gladiator.
 
Megatronus used his vantage point from the top of the tower to eliminate the other gladiators. He belatedly noticed the countdown, broadcasted on scoreboards all around the Arena’s perimeter. [8], now down to [7].
 
[6]

[5]

[4]
 
The Arena’s countdown scoreboard broadcasted the number of fighters alive in the Pit. He continued shooting, the crowd’s chant ringing in his audials as he picked off one opponent after another.
 
ONE SHALL STAND, ONE SHALL FALL!  
 
[4]

[3]

[2]

There should be one more gladiator left on the field.

Where was the last one?

Megatron scanned the debris, spark pounding in his head. The battlefield was absolutely still and quiet.

There!

The quickest flash of movement was the only warning he had before a silvery-black bot darted out in vehicle mode and fired a shot.
 
He saw the grenade arc towards him a moment before the other gladiator's shot hit. Instinct kicked in and he was already flying away in jet mode before he was caught in the blast radius. Megatronus roared in anger as he felt the heat and shrapnel tear into his side. He dove and rolled away from the blast, transforming back to his root mode as he hit the ground on his treads.
 
ONE SHALL STAND, ONE SHALL FALL.
 
They were facing off now, the last two gladiators remaining in the ring. Megatronus could still feel the raw blast from the other gladiator’s grenade trick, as well as countless smaller wounds from fighting his other opponents. Even greater than the pain, a heightened sense of intensity pounded through his frame. His opponent was in much better shape - he must have hidden in the debris, picking off his opponents and keeping alive as long as possible.

Clever bot.

Megatronus couldn’t let him find cover again.
 
The other gladiator was already moving back to the scrap pile. Megatronus cut off his escape route, forcing him to face the Champion in single combat. Around them, the Arena thundered with a primal, murderous chant.
 
ONE SHALL STAND, ONE SHALL FALL.
 
The other bot was fast, but so was Megatronus. Their weapons flashed with lighting-quick jabs and parries that never landed in a rapid-fire lethal dance. Megatronus sensed that the other gladiator was struggling to get back to the debris where he had the advantage of surprise and hidden tricks. He would wear the other bot down soon enough, but if his opponent retreated back to cover, Kaon’s Champion would be at a disadvantage again. He had to keep him out in the open.

Or did he?

Sudden inspiration struck, and he feinted left. Seeing an opening to get back under cover, the other bot took the bait. In an instant, the Champion’s sword slammed through the other gladiator’s chest, neatly spearing him through the spark chamber. He held the skewered fighter aloft, watched the light silently flicker out of the other’s optics.
 
“You fought well tonight.” Megatronus wanted to imagine that the words gave his opponent a sense of peace, but the only expression he saw on the other’s faceplate was silent agony. But he wouldn’t look away - he owed his opponent at least that. Megatronus watched as the light finally sputtered from the other gladiator’s optics.
 
The Champion lowered his arm and retracted his blade. The dead gladiator’s husk fell heavily to the Arena.

This is how it is for bots like me

. He allowed himself a brief moment of melancholy before straightening up through his helm and shoulders. The crowd had changed their chant now, and it took him a moment to realize they were saying his name.
 
MEGATRONUS! MEGATRONUS!
 
His spark burst with pride as he looked around the arena. Megatronus was still Kaon’s reigning Champion - undefeated, and unparalleled. He raised his arms to the heavens in a victorious gesture.
 
“I! Still! Function!” The crowd roared even louder.
 
He searched the crowd for Orion Pax.

There

- sitting between the rugged industrial workers and shiny aristocrats in the reserved box. Pax was standing up and cheering, craning over the tops of taller bots to get a better view. Megatronus caught the librarian’s optics and grinned as he raised his cannon arm in a salute. The librarian mirrored him, raising a servo to the sky as he cheered.

Good

- Pax knew he’d seen him. Around the Arena, others were copying the gesture.
 
“Kaon, are you with me?” The Arena’s reigning Champion grinned back as the crowd roared its agreement. He was running on a post-battle high and would ride it for as long as it lasted. “It does my spark well to see you here tonight. You inspire me with your praise, and it honors me to know that my own words and actions have inspired you as well!”
 
He waited for the last round of cheers to die down before continuing. Yes, he had won, but the matches were more than just a game. In fighting - in killing - he had come to the realization that every spark had value. As Champion and as the sole survivor of so many other matches just like this one, Megatronus felt it was his duty to honor the dead. No one else could.
 
“I’m sure you will leave remembering the challenges and victors of tonight’s matches.” The crowd was still cheering, but it had descended from a roar to a rumble. Kaon’s Champion could see them leaning in, holding onto every one of his words.

Excellent

.
 
“But let us not forget those whose sparks were extinguished in this very arena. Let us honor them as well.” Megatronus inclined his helm, his gracious words flowed naturally. “Especially the promising young talent that gave their sparks in this very last match. They fought against an invincible opponent, knowing they could die at any moment, and they died with valor. How much more, I must I honor their bravery and sacrifice - and must honor the bravery and sacrifice of

all

who perished here tonight.”
 
He gestured to the black sands of the energon-drenched battlefield, swept his gaze around the Arena to meet as many optics as possible. “These fallen gladiators fought and died to set our sparks alight by sacrificing their own. In fighting for their lives, their sparks burned with life, and ours along with them. In dying, we mourn their departure as we remember our own mortality. For in death, even those considered disposables have value beyond their caste-determined function.” That got a rumble of approval from the audience.
 
“My friends!” he raised his arms to the sky. “Honor them with me! Honor their bravery, and honor their deaths. To the fighters!”
 
TO THE FIGHTERS!
 
This is why Megatronus was the Champion. Not just for his ferocity and cunning - but for the way he could captivate the crowd with his words. Around the stadium, servos and voices lifted up his chant to the night sky of Kaon.  
 
MEGATRONUS!
 
Megatronus smiled. There - he had given them their little show for the closing ceremony. It was all very dramatic, but he enjoyed the showmanship. His job here was done, and all he needed now was to make an exit. He took a running start, transformed into jet mode, and flew two laps around the Arena before leaving through the main gates.
 
The crowd was still chanting his name after he left.
 
___
 
Kaon’s gladiatorial Pit wasn’t as bad as Orion Pax had thought it would be. It was

much

worse.

From the opening match, he had been horrified and awestruck at the brutality of Pit fights. So many people died - in the most gruesome ways possible - but for what? Was it money? Fame? Or perhaps the whole thing was a very elaborate suicide routine. Was there ever even a chance that

any

of them could make it out of the gladiatorial Arena alive, let alone ascend the ranks of Kaon’s deadliest fighters?

But Megatronus had made it. He had fought thousands of matches with the odds stacked against him, over and over and over again. Orion Pax was struck by how little he had really known about his friend, had really understood about the life of bots in lower castes. The realization brought a heavy weight of both horror and gratitude.

I wouldn’t last half a cycle if I was a gladiator.

Even more disturbing than having to watch so many bots pointlessly die was the audience’s reaction. They all agreed on one thing - and that one thing was that people should die. Sitting in that box was like living through some horrific nightmare in real life, and the only assurance it was about to end was when Megatronus finally appeared.

Watching him fight in real life had been a surreal experience. The deadly precision, the power, the energy he brought to a fight - it was like the nightmare continued, but now much more familiar and even beautiful. When Megatronus gave his speech at the end, the dreamlike illusion finally wavered and broke into reality.

I’m actually here - he’s real. It’s all real

.

“Pax! Over here!”

His friend’s voice cut through the haze in Orion’s thoughts. Ravage had led him to an atrium where the gladiators gathered after their matches. They had been waiting there for Soundwave and Megatronus to arrive, and now the two of them were headed toward Ravage and the librarian, flanked by a group of other gladiators. Orion remembered the other ‘bots from later matches. Kaon’s Champion flashed him a toothy smile and put a broad servo around the librarian’s shoulders as Orion fell in step with the group.

“What did you think?” the gladiator grinned over at him - probably not the best opportunity for Orion to share his gloomier line of thoughts.

“You were very impressive. I especially liked your speech at the end.”

“Did you?!” Megatronus beamed. “Good.”

“Hey big M, who’s this?” A large gladiator with razor-sharp sharp spikes and drill teeth embedded in his frame peered around Megatronus to get a closer look at Orion. “Is this the guy you’ve been talking to after matches?”

“Indeed. Orion Pax is a scholar from Iacon, and a good friend,” Orion was about to protest that, no, he was not actually a scholar, but Megatronus continued before he had room to object. “He has better taste in words and more processing circuits than all of you scrapeaters combined.”

“Prove it!”

“Quick, Orion, say something smart,” He leaned in with a conspiratorial grin. “Tell them they’re stupid.”

“Megatronus, I don’t have anything to say to the semi-intelligent, indigenous life forms.”

The Champion reared up, delighted with the new arsenal of words. “

That’s

what the lot of you are - semi-intelligent indigenous life forms!”

Orion tried and failed to smother a smile. A couple of the other gladiators laughed, but most the others just stared at Megatronus with confused looks on their faceplates. The gladiator who had spoken before grinned and asked Orion, “Hey, Iacon, you wanna be a gladiator? Join the big leagues?”

“No, thank you.”

“Aw come on,” The large bot pressed, “All you need’s some training, frame upgrades -”

“He said

no

, Bigrig,” Megatronus cut in with a roll of his optics. “Don’t make me bash in your faceplate.”

The other gladiators only laughed at his threat. One of them added, “He’d look better if you

did!

” Bigrig grinned and gave the offending gladiator a rough shove. He laughed as he bumped into the others next to him. Megatronus’s servo around his shoulders guided Orion away from the developing tussle.

“Where are we going?” Orion asked.

“A regular spot - we have a reserved room. The drinks are alright, but there’s plenty of space and privacy. We shouldn’t be bothered by anyone there.”

“I can’t imagine who’d want to bother a room full of gladiators.”

“You’d be surprised,” Megatronus gave a mirthless chuckle, but didn’t say anything more.

The group made their way out of the Arena the catacombs and through the long-defunct subway tunnels that now functioned as footpaths. Orion’s optics widened as they stepped onto the city streets. What had been chaotic and grimy by day was now transformed into a dazzling, chaotic maze of blaring lights and music. Bars, pleasure dens, and night market stalls advertised their wares and services with every combination of glowing, moving, and talking signs. The gaudy lights reflected off the paint jobs of shinier bots in the moving crowd, glistened off the puddles that splashed around their pedes. Orion took a moment to adjust the settings on his sensory intakes. It was overwhelming.

Megatronus led the way through the maze, guiding Orion through the crowded, electric streets while the group of gladiators followed behind noisily. Finally, they stopped in front of a place covered in neon signs advertising drinks and entertainment, much like every other bar they’d passed on the way. As Megatronus led the way inside, Orion wondered how anyone could ever tell one bar in Kaon apart from another.

The reserved room was on the third floor - wide, with a window, door, and a booth large enough for half a dozen hulking gladiators to comfortably sit down together. “I believe introductions are in order,” Megatronus began as a server started distributing tall glasses of high-grade. “But first, a toast. Pax, it’s your first time in Kaon tonight - why don’t you do the honors?”

Orion paused for a moment, surprised at being put on the spot so suddenly, then smiled and raised his glass of high-grade to the rest of the table. “To the fighters!” The group agreed.

“To the fighters!”
___ 
The high grade and conversation flowed freely after introductions, and it put Megatronus at ease to see that the other gladiators had accepted Pax into the group without any objections. The librarian didn’t speak much - not nearly as much as he did in their video calls - but he had a focused look in his optics, watching and listening as the group of gladiators talked.
 
As they ordered round after round of high-grade, Megatronus realized that the archivist was chattering freely with one of the other fighters across the table. It looked like Orion was having what looked like a lively conversation with a burly gladiator, but the Champion’s spark froze for a terrible moment when he saw that Pax was talking with Bouldercrush.

Of all the low-lifes-!

The other gladiator glanced over at Megatronus and shot him a suggestive smirk when he saw the Champion scowling at him. He returned the smirk with a glare of his own, and pulled Orion closer so the message was clear.

Don’t.

“Megatronus?” Orion looked up at him in surprise, “Is everything alright?”
 
“Don’t let Bouldercrush get too

friendly

with you,” Megatronus glowered at the gladiator across the table. He had already started talking with someone else. “He has a

thing

for shiny ‘bots - says he likes putting dents in a clean paint job.”
 
“Wait a minute. You mean that -” Orion’s optics slowly widened with realization. He dropped his helm into his hands and muttered a long stream of embarrassed

“no no no no no”

’s into the table. The table was unsympathetic, but the gladiator sitting next to him was mildly amused.
 
Megatronus sipped his drink and glanced over at his friend. “Not used to being hit on while tipsy on high-grade?”
 
Orion’s answer was mortified silence. The gladiator swirled his drink and continued, “Interesting. I was under the impression that sort of pastime was as popular in the capital as it is in Kaon’s red-light district.”
 
“What!?” Orion’s helm shot back up to look at him - confused and horrified. “ Why would you think that?”
 
“Well, if the amount aristocrats will pay to spend a few cycles with an Arena Champion is any indication - I’d say the whole of Iacon has an insatiable appetite for such activities.” He paused, took a thoughtful swig from his glass. “Seems I was wrong.”
 
“That’s horrible,” he turned to Orion, surprised by his statement and the sadness in his voice. The archivist was staring into his drink with such an earnest, mournful look. It was almost comical.
 
“Oh, come on!” The gladiator laughed. He grabbed the librarian by his helm and shook him gently. “Don’t look so sad!”
 
“But it

is

sad!”
 
“Eh, not really. That’s just the way it is here.”
 
“It shouldn’t have to be like that.”

Why does he care so much? It isn’t even that big of a deal -

Megatronus stared at his friend, wondering at how he could be so concerned with the lives of ‘bots he’d barely met. “No,” he admitted, “I suppose it shouldn’t.”
 
Suddenly inspired, an impish grin crept across the gladiator's faceplate as he mused, “Though it

is

a good way to burn off extra energy after winning a match.”
 
“No. Stop,” Orion held up a hand, optics shut and brows furrowed as if he could block out the gladiator’s words as easily as the sight of the bar around them. “I don’t need to think about this - thank you.”
 
Megatronus grinned and leaned in, “ You know-”
 
“I said -”
 
“If you were ever interested -” Megatronus leaned in closer.
 
“You need to stop.”
 
“-all you’d have to do is

ask

.”
 
“No offense,” Orion opened his optics and glared up at the gladiator, “But I’ve only just met you

today

, and I think I like it better when you’re talking about

politics

.”
 
Stunned into silence for a moment, Megatronus quickly recovered double his good humor once he realized how deftly Pax had turned the conversation back in his favor. The gladiator roared with laughter.
 
“I’ve never been rejected like

that

before!” The archivist only rolled his optics. “ Alright Pax - let’s talk about

politics

.”
 
___
 
The two stayed up late that night, talking in the reserved room long after the other gladiator had left for home or other entertainment. ... laughing, and talking and debating to the early hours of morning where artificial lights of night were overtaken by the warm light of Cybertron’s sun trickling down through Kaon’s layers, reflected in glass and off the sides of the city’s grimy, oil-slicked streets.
 
Their conversation grew slower, both parties tired and contemplative from staying up all night. Orion stared out the window, savoring the sight of the dawn. Dark city streets were slowly waking up, revealing the chaotic amalgam of broken casings and wires that adorned streetlamps, buildings, the dusty but brightly colored storefronts...
 
“It’s beautiful,” Orion murmured. He only realized he had spoken his thoughts aloud when Megatronus made an incredulous noise.
 
“What, this nameless sidestreet off scrapheap alley?”
 
“Kaon.”
 
Megatronus cast Orion a dubious look. “It’s a far cry from the domes and towers of Iacon.”
 
“I know - but Kaon is beautiful in it’s own way. It’s raw, and layered, and dangerous - and very much

alive

.”
 
“That’s one way of putting it,” Megatronus admitted, though he couldn’t help but smile. “If you say so, Pax.”
 
They stared out the window in silence and watched a moment longer as the morning sunlight began to wake up the city. At last, the gladiator stood up from the table and stretched. “Let’s get you back to the remote hub. I think we’re both in need of recharge.”
 
Orion stood up and followed his friend out of the room. “Lead the way.”

***