Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The train car rattled as it flew across its hovering, ever appearing, track. Gladiators of all shapes and sizes were packed together, their plating practically ricocheted off of each other as the train moved along its shifting path. The soft hum of conversation filled the cart, most of which consisted of just wanting to get of this damn crowded train.

Megatron had, thankfully, gotten on the train early—and snagged herself a nice spot against the window. There were no seats, because it would be oh so terrible to have these exhausted, abused fighters rest their aching joints.

But, it was still nice. To have the ability to see anything besides her normal scenery. Scenery that consisted of her small, dingy room; the drill hall—which she still had no idea why it was called that, since it was not a hall nor a place were drills occurred; the canteen; the wash racks; the actual pits of Kaon; the medbay (more like chop shop); and if she got lucky, the dingy “downtown” district of Kaon. That is, if Megatron got any time outside of beating the scrap out of other gladiators, getting the scrap beaten out of her, the medbay (again, chop shop), training, and then occasionally writing. It was all a constant, never ending cycle for her.

So, having the opportunity to see anything outside of Kaon was always a reward. It’d been a long time since she’d left that city. She’d hated it at first, but well…it grew on her. Or maybe it was the numerous amount of concussions she had received. Whether she liked it or not, it was her home now. It hadn’t always been, having first woken up in Iacon—the place she was now returning to, if only briefly.
Megatron remembered hearing the news that her and the other highest ranking gladiators were going to be going on…”tour”. Visit arenas in other cities and fight their gladiators. Tarn had been the first city the Kaon Gladiators arrived to, and with Megatron being the highest ranked fighter—she’d of course been the main attraction.

She’d been thrown into an endless amount of fights, with barely anytime in between to repair. She wasn’t unfamiliar with harsh conditions—a former uncogged miner, now uncogged gladiator got used to that. What she hadn’t expected was to be fighting cogged gladiators—again, something she wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with, though uncommon. However, combine the two? All Megatron wanted to do right now was curl up in a ball and sleep for two dozen cycles. Even as her frame had been fully repaired (even polished!), she still felt that deep ache within her protoform. No amount of polish would ever rid of that.

Fortunately enough, she wasn’t expected to fight in Iacon. It was a pit stop to Praxus. Something about Iaconians not wanting dirty gladiators roaming around their city for two cycles. Oh, they’d be fine if they went to the mines and worked though. Nonetheless, all this city would allow the Kaon Gladiators to do was rest. Which Megatron would gladly take. She still wasn’t sure where they would be taken to do said resting, but she didn’t really care as long as it had a berth and energon. A washrack would be an added bonus.

The train was finally exiting the transport tunnel that connected cities below the surface, and was now finally entering Iacon. The chatter within the train cart momentarily haltered as the gladiators turned their attention to the shiny city, whose towers seemed to sprout from everywhere. Megatron caught a glance of herself in the reflection, and saw herself quite literally gawking at the city. She shut her intake, and instead narrowed her optics as she tried to determine if anything had changed. More buildings, but that wasn’t anything new.

Somewhere beside her, a bot made their way to her. The good mood Megatron had found herself in suddenly soured as a large servo was placed on her spiked shoulder pauldron. “So this is where lil ol’ Megatron comes from?”

She debated on ignoring Overlord, since she knew all the cogged bot wanted was a reaction from her. But, she also knew that if she didn’t give a reaction now—she’d only get more aggressive with her attention tactics. And the last thing Megatron wanted right now was a brawl starting with an entire cart of tired, worn out gladiators.

So, Megatron relented. She gave a deep ex-vent and turned her helm, glancing at the bot with her burnt-orange optics. Overlord stood there, servo gripping Megatron’s pauldron so tight it would’ve been painful—if she hadn’t had her reinforced armor, of course. The blue gladiator stood there with a slag-eating smirk on her bright white faceplate.

“Yes, Overlord. This is where I come from.”

“Aww, are you in a bad mood? I’d thought you’d be excited to be coming back to your home turf. Who knows, you might see that buddy of yours! What was her name again?…Orion Pix?”

Actually, maybe a brawl starting with an entire cart of tired, worn out gladiators didn’t sound so bad.

“Pax. Her name was Orion Pax.” Megatron bit out, her hooked nose scrunching as she scowled at the bigger transformer. She figured now was a good time to yank her pauldron away from Overlord, deciding that this conversation was over. However, perhaps turning her back to the bot wasn’t the best idea.

As she turned to look back through the reinforced glass window of the train, the back of her helm was suddenly grabbed and slammed into it. Megatron grunted, putting the palms of her servos against the glass in an attempt to push back against the force pinning her to said glass. However, in such a small space, with a larger (and cogged) bot being the one to pin her…it was a futile attempt.

“I wasn’t done talking with you.” Overlord growled out beside Megatron’s audials. She paused, seemingly attempting to reel in that short-temper of hers. “So, Orion Pax. Do you think you’ll see her?” Overlord crooned, speaking smoothly.

Megatron could see her reflection in the glass, her red optics gleaming with satisfaction at having Megatron pinned. She growled as she answered. “Maybe. Maybe not. It’s no business of yours.”

“Always in such a bad attitude, Megatron. I’d almost think you didn’t like me.”

“Oh no, I’m just absolutely jolly talking to you right now. Especially when I’m slammed up against the glass.”

If Overlord heard Megatron’s sarcasm, she certainly didn’t make any sign of an acknowledging it. She most likely didn’t care. No, she definitely didn’t care. “Oh good! I’m glad to hear. I quite do enjoy these interactions of ours.”

Megatron felt her grip loosen on the back of her helm, and took the opportunity to push back with all of her strength. Overlord stumbled back, having been shoved into a handful of gladiators behind her. They all grunted and grumbled and elbowed her wall of a back. Megatron spun on her heel and took Overlord’s momentary lapse in attention towards her to land a hard punch against the boy’s cheek. She stumbled even further into the gladiators behind her, whom now shouted rather colorful things. Overlord took a step towards Megatron, fury evident on her face as he got ready to retaliate. However, the step landed on an addition Gladiator’s pede—who was also now shouting at the blue bot. They slammed their fist into Overlord’s other cheek, causing Overlord to once again…stumble back. The next thing Megatron knew, a full on brawl had started.

Overlord didn’t seem to care, her ever shifting attention gladly getting focused onto the fight she was the main focus of. Megatron quickly navigating through the crowd to get distance from the brawl, not at all wanting to get pulled into it even if she unofficially had been the one to start it.

Once she got far enough away from it she exvented, rolling her pauldrons as she looked around. She was far from the closest window, meaning her view of Iacon was blocked by gladiators. However, it didn’t last long—with the train soon pulling into the docking bay and coming to a harsh halt. All the gladiators grunted as they all got crushed by one another’s body weight, Megatron having to grab onto someone’s pauldron to keep herself from stumbling. The gladiator she grabbed onto turned and glared at her, yanking their pauldron away.

Only a klick later did the cart’s doors open, with armed cogged guards yelling at the gladiators to get out. However, it didn’t take long for them to notice the growing brawl. They suddenly stopped just yelling at bots to get out, and instead started yanking whomever was closest to them and throwing them out of the train. Megatron heard them yelling at the gladiators fighting, a mix of “stop that fighting!” and “get out!”. It didn’t take long for them to reach Megatron, quickly grabbing her by her pauldrons and throwing her out of the train. She stumbled as her pedes hit the platform.

“Charming.” She grumbled to herself, stretching her bulky frame now that she had the ability to. As she cracked her knuckles she took a moment to look around her surroundings.

Half of the gladiators were already standing on the platform, all of them looking half to be off that train and having the opportunity to stretch and move around. The platform itself was nothing special, riddled with guards (both Kaonish and Iaconian). There were crates of all sizes littered all around the docking bay, which some gladiators noticed and had swiftly sat on. Some of the guards didn’t seem to particularly like that, already moving to kick them off of said crates and stay within their line of vision. Not like anyone would try escaping. Not in an unknown city. Not when they all had trackers in them.

So, she was in Iacon again. The last time she was here, she’d been in the Iacon 5000 with Pax. They hadn’t won—far from it. Injured and swiftly taken to a medbay. Where Sentinel Prime had met them and said they were to go to his private medbay and washracks. While Megatron’s opinion of Sentinel had certainly faltered these last twenty or so stellar cycles, she still felt electricity run through her frame at the memory. Sure, the mech certainly seemed to ignore the abuse that occurred right under his olfactory—and seemed to even promote it in some cases. But still, Megatron had met and spoke with an actual prime.

It hadn’t lasted long though, since DarkWing quickly ruined all hopes of well…everything. He’d been furious, more than so. Not only had Pax and Dee specifically gone against protocol, they’d also gone down in Iacon 5000 history. Their worst crime of all however? Embarrassing DarkWing, when the two of them had…somewhat gone out of their way to sabotage the bot in the race. Due to that, he’d had D-16 sent off to Kaon—to die in the pits. She hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to Orion. Megatron often tried not to think of what happened to her best friend—she could only imagine. If her punishment had been to die in the pits, what in Primus’ name had happened to Orion? Especially without Dee there to protect her.

She exvented, shaking her Helm to clear the memories. She’d spent a long time trying to forget about it all, and focus on her new life. That was hard now, however, when that new life seemed to want to take her right back to the place she’d tried to bury deep in her memory banks.

It seemed like the guards had finally gotten to the brawl within the train, since there seemed to be a whole lot more shouting than before. Megatron turned to look, snickering as she watched a guard get thrown off of the train. She’d call that karma. That smile was soon wiped off of her faceplate when someone behind her called her designation. Her old designation.

“Dee!”

Megatron stood still, her frame pulled tight against her protoform. She turned slowly, those burnt orange optics of hers wide as they finally landed on the bot that’d called her name. A red and blue, cogless bot.

“…Orion?”

Chapter Text

Orion watched as Dee’s frame slowly turned around to face her, her optics—orange optics—wide as they practically seared into her plating. The intensity made her want to shrink back, fearing for an astroklick that this was the wrong bot. Before that bot suddenly responded, that is.

“…Orion?”

She didn’t fight back the urge to fling herself into Dee’s arms, colliding with gunmetal steel armor. She squeezed as tight as she could, not wanting to let go as if the bot would vanish if she did.

“I can’t believe you’re here! I heard that they were going to be bringing fighters from Kaon through my dock but I didn’t know if you’d be one of them—but you are! You’re here! You’re finally here! Oh Dee I’ve missed you so much and—“ Orion paused her rambling speech, realizing Dee had just been standing there. She hadn’t wrapped those large arms around her, hadn’t even moved a pede. She just stood there like a statue.

Orion pulled away, unwrapping her arms from D-16’s neck as she took a small step back. Her servo’s resting on Dee’s large chassis—which was larger than it used to be. Everything about Dee seemed to be bigger, bulkier, and even sharper. Clearly she’d gotten upgrades, as evident by her reinforced plating. Something that added both to her height and her overall bulk. Along with two rows of spikes on her pauldrons, which seemed to match the spikes on her lower legs. She also had an addition to her helm—a metal visor, something that reminded Orion of guards from old fairy-tales from stories she’d read in the archives. Even Dee’s faceplate seemed different, hardened and scarred.

The only thing that gave her that ounce of familiarity were Dee’s optics, but those too, were dark. Once a bright yellow—something that always reminded Orion of the gold edged buildings of Iacon—were a dark, burnt orange. Something about it almost unnerved her. Dee had always been quiet, but the intensity of it—the intensity of those dark optics staring into her own blue ones—made her pull her servos off of D-16’s chassis.

“…Dee?” Orion asked after a beat, not knowing what to do. Had she said something wrong? Had she done something wrong? Her worries were cut short however since the next thing she knew, it was her turn to get launched at and squeezed.

Dee’s arms squeezed her frame, successfully sucking all the air out of her vents. Orion wheezed, but it didn’t stop a grin from spreading across her faceplate. It was still Dee afterall this time. It was still her best friend. However, after a klick of being squeezed so tightly, she patted Dee’s side—trying to get her to let her go.

Dee apparently suddenly realized just how tightly she’d been squeezing Orion, and immediately dropped her. Orion sucked in a breath of air through her vents as her pedes hit the ground, before the air suddenly seemed to still within her chassis as Dee grabbed her faceplate in her servos.

“I thought I lost you forever. I thought you were offlined.” Dee whispered, orange optics soft with emotions that Orion was too overwhelmed to try and figure out what they meant. Her EM field finally bled out of her frame, wrapping Orion with even more of that complex mix of emotions. Orion gave a soft chuckle.

“Me? Offlined? Please, it Takes far more than DarkWing to offline me.” Orion said with a soft smile, feeling Dee’s rough and calloused thumbs rub a gentle circle on her cheeks.

“What happened to you? Once I was forced into stasis and shipped to Kaon, I didn’t hear any news of you.”

“What happened to me? Seriously? Dee, you’re the one that was sent off to Kaon! What in pits name happened to you?! You barely even look Like you!” Orion laughed, servo motioning to her best friend’s faceplate.

D-16 pulled back at that, removing her servo’s from Orion’s faceplate. Orion’s spark ached slightly at the sudden removal of warmth, wanting nothing more than to be close to Dee again. To have her hold her just like she used to, all those cycles ago.

“A lot’s…changed. The Pits of Kaon ain’t exactly the most friendly place around, you know.” Dee said with a soft smirk, looking down at her own frame as she did.

“Oh I can tell. You’ve got spikes now.” Orion said with a snicker, servo lifting to flick one of said spikes on Dee’s pauldron. It pinged as she did so, the sound ringing out for a few astro-klicks.

“Oh those? Nah, those are just for looks.” The bot said, to which Orion gave an inquisitive look towards. “…joking.”

“Oh I figured. You never were one to care much about your looks.”

“Hey I car—“ Dee started, before suddenly getting cut off by a voice behind her.

“Now ain’t this what you call a cute lil’ reunion!” A deep, smooth voice spoke. Orion peered over Dee’s spiked pauldron to see where said voice came from.
Behind her friend approached a blue cogged bot, with a pale faceplate and purple turrets on her pauldrons. She shared the familiar trait that most gladiators seemed to have—red optics that were so intense it made you want to shrink inside your frame. However, what made her different was her size. She was big. Really big. Bigger than any cogged bot deserved to be.

As Dee heard the stranger’s voice, her faceplate immediately soured. Her optics darkened as she begun to turn around, intake opening to speak.
“Overlord, I swear to Primus above—“

This Overlord ignored Dee’s clear protest to be left alone, and instead clamped a large servo down ontop of her pauldron. Clearly not minding the spikes there.

“So, you’re the Orion Pax Megatron here has talked so much about, eh?”

Orion’s optic’s widened. Megatron? She looked towards Dee Megatron, who had managed to turn far enough towarfs Overlord to glare daggers at her. Now that Overlord was closer, Orion noticed that she had a split dermas—along with a bruised cheek. No, two bruised cheeks.

“Uh…yes. I’m Orion.” She said, side-eyeing the bot with mild annoyance since she’d interrupted her and Dee’s Megatron’s reunion.

If Overlord noticed, she didn’t care. Just like how she didn’t seem to care about Megatron about a klick away from punching her right in that already beat up face-plate of hers.

“Wonderful! However, I just hate to cut this reunion short, but we gotta go Megs. Already haulin’ us to pit knows where. “ Overlord motioned towards the guards with her free servo, a grin plastered onto her face-plate. Clearly the injuries she sustained didn’t seem to bother her from grinning to audial-to-audial.

“You go ahead. I’ll catch up.” Megatron said through gritted denta.

Overlord stared at Megatron for a long while, before looking up towards Orion. Any smirk or grin that’d previously been on her face was gone now, as she seemed to be trying to crack open Orion’s plating just with her optics alone. Orion pulled her EM field tight to her, not wanting to give this bot any more information about who she was—who she might be.

“Fine.” Was all the cogged bot said, rolling her shoulders in a shrug as she took her servo off of Megatron’s pauldron and walked away. She whistled some annoying tune as she did so too.

“One day, I’m going to rip her fuel pump from her chassis and force feed it to her.” Megatron grumbled once Overlord was out of audio-shot, turning her attention back to Orion.

Orion’s optics widened slightly at that threat. Partly because while Orion had been used to Dee’s old threats, they’d always been stupid. Like transforming into a shovel and beating her with it. But this one was a whole lot more…gruesome. The other reason Orion was disturbed by it? It was because Megatron looked like she entirely planned on doing it, her optics dark with malice as she frowned with anger.
“Hah. Uh, yeah. Great uh, plan there buddy.” She said sheepishly, hesitantly patting Megatron’s pauldron.

The two stared at each other for a while after that, the anger bleeding away from Megatron as that softness from earlier returned. Orion rubbed her pauldron, taking a step closer to her friend. She reached up and grabbed Orion’s faceplate again. Orion leaned into it as Megatron spoke.

“I missed you Orion.”

“I missed you too…Megatron.”

Megatron’s optics hardened ever so slightly at being called that—Megatron—but she didn’t comment on it. “…I really should be going.”

Orion looked over her shoulder, noticing two guards walking their way. Looks like this reunion of theres really was about to be cut short.

“I know. Here’s my comm. Message me, please.” She pleaded ever so slightly, sending her private comm code over to Dee. Dee accepted it as soon as she did.

“I will—.”

::—I promise:: She continued over comm, to which Orion grinned at.

She wrapped her arms around Megatron in an embrace, which was quickly reciprocated. For a moment, it was just them. In this moment together, hugging each other. Like old times. When they’d both been miners, tired from a long days work—but always content. Always happy. Because they had each other. The memory didn’t last long though, since the guards finally made their way to them.

“Come on! Time to go, bucket head!” One said, yanking Megatron by the pauldron. Megatron let go of Orion immediately, and Orion did the same. She watched as the two guards dragged her best friend away without another word, reminding her of the last time they’d seen each other. Of the last time they’d been torn apart from one another’s side, without any hope of seeing one another again.

Things were different now though, Orion told herself, because she had a plan. Her, Elita, and Bee had a plan. One they’d been working on for a long, long time. Ever since Orion and Bee had discovered that message from Alpha Trion.

They were going up to the surface tomorrow. To find the matrix of leadership, to return it to Sentinel Prime himself.

And they were going to take Megatron with them.

Chapter Text

It hadn’t been enough time. It had only been, what, 5 klicks? Maybe more? Maybe less? However long, Megatron just knew—it wasn’t enough time. Even if it’d been a joor, two joors, eight joors…she’d say the same thing. After 20 stellarcycles, any time she would have spent with Orion would’ve been considered too short in her processor.

Sure, 20 stellarcycles wasn’t considered a long time to a Cybertronian—a simple flicker of light in their millions of stellarcycle life spans—but to Megatron? Whose life was only around a meer 50 stellarcycles long? Whom’s spark could be distinguished any day, anytime she stepped one pede in the arena?

It wasn’t enough time.

It solidified all of her notions about gladiators. About miners. About all bots whom were forced to work: whose lives didn’t truly belong to them.

Megatron hadn’t realized how privileged she’d been as a miner. As ridiculous as a thought that was. But it was true, she had been privileged. Yes, she had been worked down until her gears stripped. Until her knees buckled. Until her digits had been scraped of all paint from the tools she used, the ones that practically fought back against whomever was using it.

Even with all the mine collapses, and lost friends—whose frames they had never been able to collect. With the endless days—that all blurred together. And even with all of that—all of the suffering—she had been privileged.

She had had a life outside of being a miner. She was allowed to have interests. Allowed to have friends. To have community. To go to races, and see flicks in the theatre. To unwind, and enjoy her life.

Now though, as a Gladiator? All of that had been taken from her.

Megatron’s life was a never ending battle, always providing her with new opponents she’d have to beat into the ground. If she ever stopped fighting, they’d catch her—and remind her of how worthless she really was.

Everywhere she turned, there was spilled energon. There were enemies, who wouldn’t hesitate to slit her cables so that way they could take her place at the top of the leaderboard. There was fear and anger every where she turned. Every hall and street she walked down, every battle she fought, every speech she gave after a win—fear and anger were there. Digging into her armor. Into every Gladiator’s armor, even if they didn’t want to admit it. It stuck to them like the spilled energon they’d never be able to scrub off. It fueled them, it’s what kept every single one of them moving.

If they stopped moving, they all knew they’d never get to take another vent of air in their life.
Megatron decided then, that she’d continue doing her speeches this tour. In the past, they were always just whatever she had felt in the moment. What thoughts first came to her processor—like the dirty Gladiator others believed she was.

She couldn’t do that anymore. She had to make a point. What point? She wasn’t entirely sure yet.

But as she stepped into the new transport vehicle for her and the other Gladiators, she knew she only had two cycles to figure it out. That would be enough time. It would have to be.

The doors closed as she sat against the wall of the windowless vehicle, resting her helm against the wall as she stared into the ceiling.

It’d be enough time, she told herself. She knew it’d be. She wasn’t alone anymore. She had Orion again. She had a real reason to fight again. To truly fight, to fight for anything other than her own survival. It gave her the motivation to fight for Orion, and all the others who slaved away because they had no other option.

And oh the fight it’d be.

###

Megatron had gotten what she’d wanted, a small room with a berth. Accompanied by an actual private washrack. She practically ran to that washrack, scrubbing the cycles worth of travel off of her frame. She’d actually been given some real solvent as well, a luxury she hadn’t experienced in stellarcycles.

A lot of bots thought that being the top Gladiator gave you a lot, but it really didn’t. All it really gave you was a slightly-bigger room with some extra shanix here and there. Sure, the crowds loved you and screamed your designation—but that was it.

Megatron probably would’ve given it all up if it meant she got a private washroom and solvent anytime she’d want.

###

Megatron had been able to bribe one of the guards to give her their cracked data pad and light pen, and had been making hasty work writing all of her thoughts down onto it. Though, it really was just word purge. But she planned on going over it as many times as she needed to until it sounded like an actual concise plan.

She got stuck though, pen tapping against her chin as she thought. Absolutely nothing came. She sighed, setting her writing down onto her berth as she rubbed her olfactory ridge.

As she checked her internal chronometer she groaned, she’d lost track of time. She really should get some rest, since she had no idea what was in store for her tomorrow. No fighting, though…so, it wasn’t like she needed to get as much rest as she normally did.

Besides, there was something more prevalent on her processor right now: Orion.

She sent the bot a message, hoping she was still up. She got a response almost instantly. She smiled to herself—of course Pax wasn’t recharging. Some things really don’t change.

::Shouldn’t you be recharging?::

::I could ask you the same question Dee.::

Megatron snickered at that, before Pax sent another message barely an astroklick later.

::I mean, Megatron.::

Ah, yeah. Megatron. She didn’t know why it felt weird to hear Pax call her that—it was her designation now. It had been for a while. Maybe it was because it reminded her that while Orion was the same, whereas she wasn’t. She wasn’t the playful miner who always had to get her friend out of trouble—she was Megatron, the best fighter in Kaon. It took a lot to be considered the best fighter. A lot of spilled energon.

::It’s fine, don’t worry.::

::So…why did you change your designation? Did you become an even bigger fan of Megatronus Prime since these last stellarcycles?::

She could practically hear the sound of Orion’s snicker at the end of that—but she knew that there was a genuine curiosity there as well. Megatron didn’t blame her, she’d be curious as well if their positions had been swapped.

::D-16 isn’t exactly the scariest designation out there. Had to build a reputation for myself. Outside of being the Iaconian miner.::

::Oh, and what kind of reputation would that be?::

::Well, I’m not considered the best Gladiator in all of Kaon for no reason.::

Keep that as vague as she needed to—she didn’t exactly want to describe in detail to Pax about how exactly she became the highest ranked fighter. It wasn’t something she was ashamed of, on the contrary actually. She was proud of herself, that she’d been able to not only survive but come out on top. She enjoyed the…power, the whole notion of the strength one bot had over another. One that wasn’t decided about whether you were cogged or not—but on how much energon you were willing to spill.

Megatron was willing to spill a lot of it too.

::Have you ever thought of going to the surface?::

That practically gave Megatron whiplash.

::No. Why?::

::Thats a shame. I’ve read that it’s supposed to be beautiful up there.::

:: I See You’re still Breaking into the archives then.::

::Well what can I say! Old habits offline hard. It’s not my fault their security is bad.::

::I’d be willing to bet that you’re at least 45% to blame for that “bad security”.::

::Maybe, maybe not.::

Megatron snickered at that. Oh yeah, Orion was definitely the entire reason why their security was so bad. Probably breaking their equipment every chance she got. She got distracted from her mulling however, as someone knocked on her door.

Her optics narrowed. That was…odd. The guard should’ve had no reason to “wake her” (she really should’ve been recharging) right now. She thought about ignoring it, before the knocks happened again—more rapid this time.

She vented as she stood, her frame protesting. She stored the data pad and light pen within her subspace, before making her way over to the door. She got a notification from Orion, but she ignored it for the moment.

Megatron opened the door right when the knocks started happening again, only to be met by some small yellow bot. They had bright blue eyes and a small frame—even for an uncogged bot.

“Oh my gosh hi, so sorry to bother you but I’m here to come get you. It’s so nice to finally meet you, Major has told me so much about you and it’s so cool I finally get to meet y—“

Megatron raised one servo as she leaned her helm out her door, looking up and down the hall. All the guards were gone.

“How’d you get here?”

“Like I Said, im here to come get you! I made a distraction but that should only last for so long so we need to hurry—“

“No.”

“What?”

“Im not getting caught up in whatever this is.”

“Wait—“

She slammed the door shut on the bot, grumbling to herself. The things fans did sometimes always made her want to slam her helm into a wall. Seriously, at this joor too? Maybe this was a sign for her to go and recharge.

The knocks happened again. Harder this time.
Megatron growled, walking to the door again and yanking it open. “I told you to leave me al—“ she started to shout, before clamping her intake shut once she saw who else was outside her door.

A pink bot. A familiar pink bot.

“Elita?”

“Yes, it’s me you rust bucket. Let’s go.” Elita said, leaning up and grabbing Megatron by her pauldron spikes so she could yank her out of her temporary hab suit. Luckily, Megatron wasn’t as easy to throw around as she used too—planting her pedes down.

“Why are you here?” Megatron asked with narrowed optics, looking between her and this mystery yellow bot. Said bot was looking up and down the hall.

“C’mon Elita, we really gotta go. Those guards are going to be back any klick.”

Elita ignored the bot, growling out in frustration. “Didn’t Orion tell you we were coming to get you? And when the pit did you get this strong?” She cursed, pulling her servos back from Megatron’s pauldrons.

“Orion? Orion didn’t—“ she paused, before realizing she hadn’t read the last comm that’d been sent to her. She opened it and groaned.

:: By the way, some friends of mine are coming to pick you up.::

She wasn’t even a full day back in Iacon and Orion was already trying to get her in trouble. While she’d been distracted, Elita had reached out and grabbed her by the collarplate and yanked her hard enough to finally stumble out of the doorway. The door shut behind her once she was out of the way—and locked.

“No, no I’m not doing this. Whatever this is, I’m not being apart of it. Whatever plan Orion has I am not being apart of it.” She protested, jabbing a servo to Elita’s chassis.

“Well that’s too fragging bad because you’re already apart of this. Your doors locked and you’re already on the cameras talking to us. So you’re coming.” With that sentence, she grabbed Megatron by the wrist and started pulling her down the hall.

Megatron fought it for a moment, before grumbling to herself. She was right. She was already going to be in trouble for leaving her room—even if she hadn’t well, willingly left it. Might as well play along for now.

“Fine. Where are we going? Are we going to see Pax?”

“Yes.” Was all Elita said, finally letting go of Megatron once she was sure she wasn’t going to fight her anymore. “Bee, you go scout ahead. Make sure no one’s coming.”

“Got it!” The yellow bot said, before jogging ahead to go scout out the hall—poking his helm around a corner before giving a thumbs up to the two bigger bots.

“Where are we going?” Megatron repeated, annoyed that no one seemed to be answering her questions. Elita gave her a glare before turning down the hall, walking with light pedes as to not be heard.
Megatron realized she probably should do the same, so that way she wasn’t lumbering down the hall. This was weird. Elita breaking the rules and sneaking around? Elita should’ve been the one that was breaking this whole operation down from even happening.

“Elita—“

“I heard you Megatron. We’re going to go see Orion.”

“Where??”

“The docking bay you idiot, where else?”

“That’s—that’s half way across the city! Look breaking me out of my room is one thing, but smuggling me across the city is not going to work.” She growled, clamping a servo down on Elita’s pauldron to physically stop her from moving.

“Megatron, if you don’t let me go right now—“

“No. You tell me what is happening right now.”

“Yes, please do tell us what’s happening.” Called a voice from behind them.

Megatron’s spark dropped to her tanks. No, not now. Literally any other time except now. She turned her helm, engine rumbling in pure distain at who it was.

Overlord.

Chapter Text

“You shouldn’t be out of you room Overlord.” Megatron bit out, turning her back on her…smugglers, so she could focus on the bigger issue at hand.

Overlord was obsessed with her. And not in a ‘you’re such a good fighter and I want to know everything you do so I can better myself’. No, it was in the ‘youre such a good fighter and I want to know everything you do so I can personally beat you into the ground’. Which wasn’t unusual for fighters; wanting to get rid of competition. But Overlord went about it in a weird way.

She feigned interest in anything Megatron did, almost as if she were trying to befriend her. She tried talking to her as much as possible, followed her everywhere, listened in on every conversation Megatron had near her. It was a true obsession. But it didn’t end there. If that was all it was, Megatron would’ve been slightly unnerved—maybe even slightly flattered that someone used so much processing power to stalk her.

No. Overlord had the habit of openly talking Megatron up to others. It made no sense in Megatron’s processor. It was clear Overlord hated her, since she always took the opportunity to slam her into the nearest surface when she had the chance. Yet, she still faked this sort of friendliness. A friendliness she continued to fake around others.

It made no sense. But that was Overlord’s whole thing afterall; Keeping bots on their pedes. Even if that meant playing weird processor games.

“Neither should you, Megatron.” Overlord responded, a faint smirk on her derma. Her optics weren’t looking at her, however. They were locked onto Elita and the yellow one. Bee?

Megatron was too worried about what Overlord was planning to care about designations.

“I’m taking care of business.”

“Business that can get all us fighters in trouble?”
Megatron scoffed at that. “As if you care about the others.”

“Oh, but you do. That makes me wonder why you’d risk getting us all punished.” She took a few steps forward at that, now in arms reach of Megatron. She leaned down to say her next sentence. “Say, are you going to see that pretty “friend” of yours? If so, I’d love to come along and…see her again.”

Megatron wasn’t sure what Overlord was trying to imply, but she knew it was nothing good. She slammed her fist into the cogged bot’s already bruised faceplate. The hit was hard enough to make Overlord stumble towards the wall opposite of Megatron, her helm thunking against it.

Overlord laughed. The fragging masochist. She rubbed the abused cheek with her blue servo, pulling it away to see the energon on it. Her optics narrowed as she ran her glossa over her denta before she rushed towards Megatron.

After taking Overlord’s position as top fighter, Megatron expected the sudden attack. Considering all the brawls the two had been in since then. Megatron jumped out of the way and landed a blow against the side of Overlord’s abdomen, the sound of said impact rang out within the hall.

Elita yelled something at her, but Megatron didn’t care. To Pit with getting caught. She was going to beat the living slag out of Overlord.

Considering the hall wasn’t that wide, her rush meant that Overlord was already right back besides Megatron. With a wild glint in her optics, she grabbed one of Megatron’s spiked pauldrons and slammed her into the wall. Megatron wheezed as the air was knocked out of her vents, her own helm having thunked against the wall with enough force for her visor to automatically flip down over her optics and olfactory ridge.

As Megatron tried to shift her weight, Overlord landed a hard blow to the center of her face. The punch was hard enough to crush the visor against her olfactory ridge. Megatron heard a sickening crunch as something in her faceplate broke. She groaned, her HUD flooding with messages about the damage done to her helm. She dismissed them all.

Overlord had her pinned against the wall, one servo still gripping her pauldron as the other reared back to land a hit where it had before.

Suddenly Megatron let herself fall limp, her knees buckling under her weight as she fell. As she dropped, her weight pulled her pauldron free from Overlord’s grasp. Overlord stepped back as the servo that had held Megatron now clenched. Before Overlord could react further, Megatron lifted her legs and kicked Overlord in the gut.

Just as she did that, she heard yelling. Megatron scrambled onto her pedes. Frag, now the guards were running towards them. She copied Overlord’s earlier tactic, and rushed towards her. Megatron’s full weight slammed into the bot. Overlord stumbled, colliding full force with the guards behind her.

Before Megatron could reel back, one of Overlord’s still out-stretched servos grasped her back. Digits dug into the metal as Overlord slammed into the guards. Megatron was almost tugged along with her, before she planted her pedes down and yanked back. Sparks flew as digits tore a chunk off of Megatron’s back.

She pushed through the waves of pain as she turned on her heel. Megatron yelled at Elita as she ran towards her. “We’ve got to go!”

Elita didn’t miss a beat, even if some residual shock from Megatron’s quick resort to violence remained. Nonetheless, she bolted down the hall.

The yellow bot—maybe named Bee—wasn’t as quick to recover from the violent scene. Megatron had to forcefully yank him to get his pedes moving. It seemed to have broken his trance, as he quickly sprinted after Elita.

Megatron shot one glance behind her, watching half the guards try to apprehend Overlord while the other half gave chase. Despite her injuries, the rush of energon and shouts behind her kept her moving fast.

She rounded a corner so fast that she crashed full force into the opposite wall. She didn’t dare to stop running. If she stopped, she’d be caught. Her pedes pushed her forward, leaving a smear of energon on the wall.

The group began to lose the guards, but still forced themselves to move as fast as possible. Eventually, Elita led them all to a door. She slammed the code into the key pad so hard she nearly broke the screen.

Megatron vented harshly, optics flicking from Elita to the hall. The door opened, sliding to the side with a whoosh of air. They all ran out without a second thought. Only then did Megatron realize they were now outside.

It was night, the main lights that illuminated the underground city during the day having been shut off. Even then, with all the towers and buildings that jutted around from every possible crevice—along with the endless display of holographic advertisements and promotions—it truly never did go dark in Iacon. There was always something to light up the city.

She was snapped out of her thoughts as Elita yelled at her. “Hurry up! Into the truck!”

Megatron’s optics snapped to where Elita stood besides some faded-teal pickup truck, her servo yanking open the door as she motioned for everyone to get in. The yellow bot behind her didn’t skip a beat this time, throwing himself inside.

Megatron followed suit, temporarily worried about everyone fitting inside. Nonetheless, she ran to the truck and leaped inside. Her pauldron slammed against the yellow bot’s side with a clang as she did so. Elita was last, closing the door behind her as squeezed beside Megatron. She didn’t waste a klick though, slamming her servo on the dashboard.

“Kup! Go!” She yelled, before the vehicle’s engine rumbled to life and sped off away from the building.

Megatron’s Helm reeled, both from everything that had happened tonight and the punch to the faceplate she’d received. She vented hard, forcing her combat protocols to shut down. She’d just escaped from the gladiator quarters—something she hadn’t even wanted to do.

They’d just forced her out of her room, and then she figured why the pit not—she was already going to get in trouble. Then a brawl happened, which meant she was going to get into even more trouble. Whatever this was about, it better be good. If not she was going to give Orion a good shake up. Or well…no, Orion wouldn’t be able to handle her shake ups anymore. So she’d just do a lot of yelling instead.

She ran a quick systems check, wanting to know what exactly had been damaged in her brawls with Overlord. She always won them, but she also always got severely damaged. Figures, when it came with fighting a cogged bot. Nonetheless, she got multiple pings about her damaged parts.

Her faceplate—damage to her olfactory ridge and her cheeks, thanks to her smashed in visor. She tried to flip the visor up, but with how it had been punched in, she couldn’t. Megatron grumbled to herself as she checked her other pings—a missing panel on her back, damage to the back of her helm, cracked fists, and other random scrapes and dents. Not her worst encounter with Overlord, but definitely not her best.

As if any encounter with Overlord could ever be considered ‘the best’.

She was snapped out of her mulling as a voice rumbled out around her, distorted as it spoke from inside itself.

“Hey, ya better not be gettin’ any energon on ma seats kid.” A gruff voice grumbled out.

Megatron knew she absolutely got energon on the seats. Her damaged, leaking back was against the seat rest after all. “Too late. Maybe if Elita hadn’t forced me out of m—“

“Megatron I swear I will slam your Helm into this dashboard if you try and pin this all on me.” Elita growled out besides her, squished between Megatron’s bulk and the door.

“Well who else am i supposed to pin this on?? Don’t worry, I’ll definitely be giving Orion her own audial-full.” Megatron barked, glaring at Elita beside her.

“Hey Major just wanted to keep you included! We didn’t even know you’d be here when we originally planned on doing this.” The yellow stranger spoke up, speaking fast and with far too much excitement with all that just happened.

“Oh, so you were all just planning on kidnapping some other gladiator?” She responded sarcastically, rolling her optics before they narrowed. “And why do you keep saying Major? Orion is no Major.”

“Because Orion is a major. You’re not the only one that’s changed, Megatron.” Elita responded for the yellow bot, glaring up at Megatron.

Orion, a major? That was ridiculous. No way, the slacking, trouble making Orion was a major. Megatron laughed.

“Yeah, Right. Last I remember, Orion never took responsibility for anything. She was always causing trouble, breaking in—I mean, clearly that hasn’t changed. Look at us now! Getting in trouble for her stupid plans.” She gave a dismissive gesture at that, shaking her helm.

“Well, while you were rolling around in Kaon beating bots for no good reason—Orion was here making a name for herself. After you left she changed.”

“I didn’t leave. I was taken. Because of her stupid plan.”

“Oh don’t blame her. You could’ve easily left that race. You were as big a part of what happened just as she was.”

Megatron’s optics narrowed at that, her fist tightening. Was Elita seriously blaming what had happened on her? Who did she think she was? She wasn’t even there. She didn’t even know what happened.

“Well I’m glad that it did happen!” The yellow bot spoke up suddenly.

Megatron’s Helm whipped around so fast it might’ve given her whiplash. “what.”

He clearly didn’t notice Megatron’s anger. “Well, just that if none of that happened I would’ve never met Major! And we wouldn’t have figured out where the primes offlined! And then I would’ve never left sub-level 50!”

Megatron stared. “What do you mean ‘wouldn’t have found out where the primes offlined’?”

“Sheesh, stop with all the fighting. Megan guy, you’ll find out when we get to the loading docs.” Kup spoke up again, still moving fast as he raced to said loading docs. The whole cabin lurched as he took a particular sharp turn, causing Megatron to just about near crush the yellow stranger. Once the turn ended she grunted, shaking her helm.

“Ugh, sorry. What’s your name again?”

“Oh! It’s B-127! But you know, my friends actually call me Badaftatron. Kind of like you! Except you’re Megatron. But I’m Badaftatron.” He Said With a grin, two sections of the plating on his helm poking up as he spoke about his nickname.

“Bee, no one calls you that.” Elita spoke over Megatron, Helm poking around the grey bot’s chassis.

“Yes they do! Many of the loaders call me that!”

“Nah, they don’t Bee.” Kup spoke up again in that same gruff voice.

The argument continued all around Megatron, as she stared forward straight ahead through the windshield. She made a promise to herself.

She was going to wring Orion’s throat for this.