Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Orion didn’t dare linger, flooring the accelerator as he fled the black market.

Orion had originally prepared himself for the possibility of encountering other bots brought by Overlord during the escape and spending some effort to break through them and flee. After all, even in Iacon, a place where there were no overt conflicts, they wouldn't just send one bot to cause trouble. Apparently, Overlord was just the vanguard.

And Swindle's shout of "Miner crew’s comin’" only strengthened his conviction that chaos was imminent. Now he could only hope to get out of the trouble before things spiraled out of control.

But that hope was clearly about to be dashed. The entrance to the black market was already blocked by several rows of bots—tall, silver-gray armored miners at a glance. The bright red optics of the leading bot stood out even from nearly a hundred meters away, unmistakably the same bot who had come to Orion's class earlier. A faint surprise flickered in Orion's spark, but his speed didn't slacken as he tried to dart through the gap at the side of the group.

To his surprise, the miners who had stood like a wall before him actually parted to make a path. Orion soon realized the miners weren't stopping the small vendors fleeing the black market to avoid the chaos. They were leaving a passage for any merchant wanting to escape. Perhaps they mistook him for one of those fleeing vendors. What a coincidence, Orion had no desire to stay either. He slowed slightly to avoid accidentally colliding with anyone, then carefully went past the miners.

In his haste to leave, he failed to notice that the lead miner with the bright red optics had subtly turned his head, watching him depart.

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The Black Market, in truth, was a street cutting east-west through the Messatine settlement. Megatron had never much liked the place. Stretching about two klicks in length, this thoroughfare offered few mid-route exits. Aside from a handful of concealed passageways within the buildings temporarily occupied by the vendors, which are secret routes leading to other streets, the rest was flanked by crowded rows of half-height small buildings packed tightly along both sides.

Every time he entered this place, he would have trusted friends guard at least one end of the exit. The thought of being trapped in this narrow passage, with people ready to attack from both front and back, was enough to make his spark uneasy.

Swindle didn't show up. He had probably gambled on the wrong direction and run to the other end of the Black Market. There was a group hired by the Black Market waiting for him. Fortunately, Swindle had always been alert, and his life should be safe before the two forces met.

Other than that, he did catch sight of a familiar figure. Primus knew why that teacher from Iacon would show up in the Black Market for no apparent reason. Judging by his hurried demeanor, he’d probably gotten himself into some kind of trouble too. He watched as the teacher—Ori… what was it… Pex? Was that the name? Or maybe Pax?—left the Black Market, then promptly put the matter out of his mind.

"Jazz, Soundwave, have some people by your side and guard this exit, thank you." Megatron said. "I'm going to meet Ratbat."

"Be careful," Jazz replied.

Soundwave, as always, remained taciturn. He simply nodded at Megatron.

The miners' alternate modes weren't much faster for traveling than walking. Megatron waves his hand, and the miners silently followed him deeper into the Black Market.

By this point, the situation had grown truly grave. Even the petty vendors who had no intention of leaving had all their stalls packed up without exception, huddling into the gaps and shadows between buildings, striving not to attract any attention.

They walked all the way to about the middle of the black market. Only then did the people invited by the black market start to show up one after another. Compared with the small vendors in the black market, they were obviously much more composed. Some of them folded their arms and leaned against the walls, while others squatted down to examine the goods on the stalls that hadn't been put away in time. When they saw Megatron coming with the miners, most of them voluntarily moved away.

Megatron silently assessed his reputation on Messatine based on the reactions of these bots. He also noticed that there was no fear in the optics of those who had stepped aside, there was just curiosity toward him at most.

He stopped at a suitable spot. There were people from the black market here, but not so many that they’d be in danger. A little further ahead, a large blue-and-white bot leaned against the wall of a nearby building, fixing its optics on Megatron’s newly arrived group. His gaze darted between them, as if searching for something.

Megatron realized almost without thinking that the large blue-and-white bot was the trump card Ratbat had brought in. Earlier, Soundwave had sent back information that Ratbat had used some connections to find a gladiator from who-knows-where, hoping to add some deterrence to his faction.

The blue-and-white bot seemed to have a problem with his left leg. He was standing almost entirely on his right leg, with sparks and energon fluid leaking from the joint of his left leg. Though the injury had been given a makeshift treatment, it was clear he had no full fighting capability in such a state.

Could it be that this gladiator had already fought someone else before?

Somehow, the red-and-blue painted figure he’d seen earlier flashed through Megatron’s processor. He furrowed, then averted his gaze to search for Ratbat.

Ratbat was hiding behind the bots he’d brought, as usual. When he saw Megatron arrive, the purple-painted medium-sized bot stepped forward as if nothing was wrong, though his optics involuntarily drifted toward the large blue-and-white bot.

He’s guilty. Megatron acutely sensed it. Ratbat was guilty, presumably because the trump card he’d brought in wouldn’t be of use today.

"Where's Swindle?" Megatron, seeing this, dispensed with pleasantries and asked bluntly.

"Hmm, that slippery little wretch? He ran off," Ratbat replied. "No matter. We can get straight to the point. We have Terminus' body and Impactor in our hands. I think that’s enough to make you barbarians sit down and talk properly, don’t you?"

"I want to see Impactor safe and sound. Only then will there be room to sit and talk. Otherwise—" Megatron’s gaze swept over Ratbat and the reinforcements behind him, "—these bots won’t be enough to stop us."

At that moment, the large blue-and-white bot, who had been leaning against the wall, straightened up and began walking toward Megatron. He stood even taller than Megatron, yet his steps were noticeably limping as he approached, the imposing aura he might once have commanded dimmed by his injury.

The blue-and-white bot stopped about a body-length away from Megatron. Ratbat made no move to stop him. Perhaps he, too, harbored a flicker of wariness toward this gladiator. He no longer glanced behind Megatron. Instead, his optics locked directly onto Megatron’s.

Megatron tilted his head slightly upward to meet his gaze, his faceplates remaining as steady and impassive as ever.

"So you’re the miners’ leader?" the blue-and-white mech asked with a faint smile. "Where’s that red-and-blue medium-sized bot of yours? Where is he? What’s his name?"

Orion Pax. The name of that bot suddenly came to Megatron. He recalled the red-and-blue bot had mentioned it in passing during the lecture. Fortunately, Megatron’s memory was as sharp as ever. Otherwise, he might have fried his processor trying to dredge it up. He glanced at the gash on the blue-and-white bot’s left leg, silently forming an assessment of this Orion Pax.

Megatron had no intention of revealing anything he shouldn’t. Orion’s dwelling was secluded enough that few would stumble upon it by chance. Ignoring the feigned amiability of the gladiator before him, he raised his voice to address Ratbat instead: "You haven’t introduced this one yet, Ratbat."

Ratbat seemed equally anxious that the gladiator might suddenly lash out and ruin his plans. He hurried forward in quick strides, positioning himself just behind and to the side of the blue-and-white bot.

"Overlord," he said, "calm yourself for a moment. Megatron, this is Overlord. Overlord, this is Megatron."

Ratbat’s introduction was perfunctory at best. The gladiator—Overlord—cast a sidelong glance at Ratbat. After a moment of silent assessment, he stepped back, and even offering a cordial smile and a wave to the gathered miners.

Megatron redirected his attention to Ratbat. "So... where is Impactor?"

A flicker of irritation showed on Ratbat’s faceplate, as if he resented not being the one controlling the situation. But with one of his bargaining chips already lost, he merely lifted a hand and gestured for the bot Megatron demanded to be brought forward.

A miner, shackled in stasis cuffs, was shoved to the front of the crowd. Megatron studied Impactor carefully. Though his vocalizer was gagged, the miner seemed otherwise unharmed. A faint flicker of relief crossed his optics as he fixed Ratbat with a firm gaze.

"Release him now," he rumbled, "and perhaps I’ll agree to talk."

Ratbat narrowed his optical sensors, then affected a magnanimous air. "I am a bot of my word, Megatron. Once our discussion concludes, he’ll be freed immediately."

"You’ve set a good start, Ratbat," Megatron said. "In our past disputes, taking hostages was never part of the game."

"Is that so?" Ratbat feigned surprise. "But my methods pale in comparison to yours. After all, I’ve never killed anyone."

"Shall we skip the pleasantries?" Megatron’s voice sharpened with impatience. "What exactly are you demanding in exchange?"

"Very simple. Restore the original rules. We'll recycle the dying and deceased cold-constructed miners. Additionally, neither you nor your most loyal subordinates are allowed to enter the black market anymore."

"Absolutely impossible," Megatron said. "You can only trade directly with the miner crews. They won't allow you to enter the residential areas to search for severely injured miners."

"It seems you don't really care about your friend's life," Ratbat threatened.

"So, you want a fight to the death," Megatron remained unmoved, "we're ready anytime." His gaze shifted to Impactor, who couldn't speak but had a resolute look in his optics.

Ratbat frowned, raising a hand to rub his head as if troubled. "When a bot dies and their spark fades, they just become a pile of scrap metal. I really don't understand, what are you guarding those miner's bodies for? Could it be..." He suddenly stood up and leaned closer to Megatron, whispering, "...could it be that, you still want to do something with those bodies?"

The miners behind Megatron almost thought Ratbat was going to attack. They all drew their crude homemade weapons out from subspace. The black market bots also took out their weapons. As the two sides faced off, the tension instantly becoming palpable.

Megatron raised his hand, gesturing for the miners behind him to calm down. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Simple," Ratbat said triumphantly, "on Messatine, after what happened to Terminus, all datapads were monitored, but the things he wrote kept spreading. Oh, or maybe you added fuel to the fire too, Megatron. So what are you using as the carrier to record these words?"

He pulled a armor plate out from his subspace. It's clearly torn from someone's body frame. The outer side of the plate was the same rough silver-gray armor as the miners', but the inner side was densely carved with tiny characters.

The miners were furious at the sight. Several hot-tempered ones cursed and tried to rush forward to tear Ratbat apart, but fortunately, they were held back by their companions.

A flicker of anger finally crossed Megatron's optics. "You desecrated the remains of Terminus."

"Hmph," Ratbat replied nonchalantly, "as if you haven't desecrated it enough. But the most important thing is—this thing is strictly forbidden to spread. Let me see... the title is Towards Peace—Primus, it looks just like the rebellion manifesto from Terminus' days. What I'm so curious about is that, if I hand this over to Iacon, will your fate be the same as Terminus, Megatron?"