AN: Okay, there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for this. I just got Megatron Origins (the comic book) and I loved the history of it. So I decided to design a TFA Mirage, take the Megatron Origins story and entirely fuck it up by adding my own insane twist to it. This story will make sense eventually! Bear with me here, people. My design can be found here, remove the spaces please: thebrokencradle. deviantart. com/art/ TFA-Mirage-Colored- 160765767

I don't know the exact measurements of time that are officially used, but here is what I'm going off of:

Klik: 1.3 seconds

Breem: 3.8 minutes

Joor: 12 hours

Solar Cycle: One and a half Earth days.

Stellar Cycle: An Earth Year

Groon: A dozen earth years

Vorn: 83 years

Orn: One million years.

Senator Decimus never really liked the mines. Oh, he liked what they harvested, they harvested profits and energon, but he disliked the mines themselves. Covered in grime and filth and milling with peons not even worth the energon spent keeping them functioning. But the minority was the elite and middle-class on Cybertron, the majority of mechs were in the lowerclasses – miners, pleasure bots and other walking filth across Cybertron – now would not be a good time to dispose of them…

"Creator Decimus." Decimus looked up at the smooth voice of his Creation, his optics frowning as several other optics turned to the slender blue and white mech. His blue and white armor was trimmed with gold, his amber eyes looking around the large ship with distaste. "I do not see why I must accompany you on this excursion. I have no desire to see what wrecks they inbreed in the mines."

"Mirage, as my Creation it is your duty to learn how to handle mechs of other castes, even if they are the worthless scum on the backwater harvesting planets."

Mirage snorted, the bike walking back towards his quarters, his high heeled bootplates clicking on the floor sharply. Decimus sighed. Honestly, his Creation was as rebellious as they came. He would rather go out to bars and pick up random mechs rather than attend to matters that would someday be his responsibility. Perhaps if he tied down his Creation's promiscuous behavior he would become more… Docile… More willing to be moulded into a proper elite…

"Sir, we'll be arriving in ten breems."

"Excellent." Decimus turned from his musings about his Creation and waited for their arrival on Mining Outpost C-12.

*

"Come on, Megatron, the bars are just opening." Megatron grinned at Scavenger, following the younger mech as the backhoe walked along the middle of the street. "Wonder if there will be any mechs worth taking home."

"Other than the usual?" Megatron teased, striding beside his friend. The youngest Constructicon was grinning behind his facial masking, Megatron was sure.

"Oh come on, I'm sure that those femmes would whither away without a little Structie- Hey!"

Scavenger jumped out of the way as a blue and white bike with gold detail sped past him, nearly running over his pede. Several large mechs thundered after it, howling and laughing as the pursued the much smaller transformer. Megatron blinked and watched as they raced past him before running after the other mechs to see what the ruckus was about.

"I got him!" One mech shouted and Megatron heard the sounds of transforming and a struggle.

"Let me go, you ill-bred mongrel!" A voice with a definite elitist accent snarled and Megatron blinked, elbowing his way through the crowd.

He caught sight of a slender mech being tossed between the much larger miners, the protrusions from his shoulders being fondled along with his round, soft looking hips. He stumbled on his high heeled pedes and fell into a pile of dust, getting coated with the thick brown-red dirt. He let out an incensed sound and stumbled to his feet, trying to remain dignified.

"Get away from me, filth, I do not have time for you."

"Now don't be like that baby." One mech crooned and the smaller mech let out a huff, stomping his pede angrily.

"I am not your "baby" and I demand that you get out of my way!"

"Oh, I like 'em when they're feisty." One mech growled and Megatron decided to step in at that moment, drawing his energon pick-axe, he stepped into the group.

"Alright, get lost." He barked and the mechs grinned.

"Or what?"

Megatron turned and buried the tip of the pick into the mech's shoulder, tearing downwards easily, severing wires and rendering the limb useless. The mech howled and lunged at Megatron, the larger mech throwing the miner aside like so much scrap.

A few other mechs set upon Megatron but most of them fled, cowardly running at the first sign of a threat. By the time Megatron was finished the mechs lay groaning on the ground, bleeding profusely and looking no worse for wear.

"Sorry about that." Megatron huffed, turning around. "Some mechs just don't know when they're…" He trailed off at the sight of thin air behind him, frowning and cursing. The mech had run off.

"Ouch, I can feel the burn from here." Scavenger called from his position leaning casually against a wall. Megatron glared at the backhoe. "I mean seriously, that must have hurt, you go through all that trouble to be chivalrous and he runs while your back is turned."

"Shut up, Scavenger." Megatron growled, disappointed as he stalked past his friend. He didn't even get a name…

The air shimmered from where Megatron had been standing and Mirage's slender form slowly materialized as he watched the miner leaving. He looked around at the damage before activating his electro-disrupter again, fading out of existence.

"Megatron…" He murmured to himself, following the other mechs at a distance.

*

Megatron sat in the bar, watching mechs and a select few femmes dancing together in the center of the crowded place. The sheer noise of mechs talking, laughing and arguing with the loud music on top created a cacophonic mess of sounds that Megatron knew most mechs couldn't stand. But he preferred this lively place to some of the more down beaten bars on C-12. He sat at the bar, watching the crowd of dancing bodies, taking in everything as he did his best to get drunk. He downed his second can of cheap oil, placing it on top of his pyramid of oil cans, resting his chin on his forearms as he stared at the geometric shape.

"So this is what miners do on their free time?" Megatron looked over and saw a familiar white, blue and gold shape, rebooting his optics before straightening.

"You!"

"Hmm… Yes?" The mech lifted the straw to a glass of high grade energon to his lips, taking a drink as he watched those on the dance floor. Megatron blinked, trying to think of something to say. Instead he turned to the bartender.

"Give me something stronger."

"Put it under the name Mirage." Megatron looked over at the sleek mech, rebooting his optics before grunting.

"Put it under the name Megatron."

"Don't listen to him, I insist." Mirage smirked, his golden optics dim and sultry. "As a thank you."

"For what?" Megatron asked, frowning. The slender bike pouted and tilted his head.

"For coming to my aide."

"Any respectable mech would have done it." Megatron groused as he was given a strong high grade. "Any respectable mech would have also stayed to say thank you instead of run off."

"Yes, well, can you blame me?" Mirage frowned. "I'm not used to dealing with mechs of lower classes, much less ones so enthusiastic to get their hands on me. I didn't know whether you were just doing it to get a reward or if you were doing it out of a misplaced sense of honor."

"I would hardly call any sense of honor misplaced." Megatron growled and Mirage smiled.

"Then you are well suited to where you are." Mirage chuckled, turning back to gaze at the dancers.

Megatron gaped at the mech before grunting and turning back to his drink, sipping it idly. He glanced over at Mirage, taking in the long, slender legs, small waist, nice hips with two round lights on them and a nice… full… chest… Made of glass… that if you looked at it correctly you could see the amber spark beneath and just make out –

"Want to dance, sweetspark." A large green and orange mech asked, walking up to Mirage. The slender mech smiled and shook his head.

"I'm with someone." He nodded to Megatron and the mech nodded, gracefully bowing out. They sat like that for a few moments, Megatron slightly stunned that he had been used as an excuse to get out of a dance when he caught Mirage's meaningful look.

"Well?" Megatorn's gaze snapped up and Mirage looked at him with a sidelong glance, slender head crests slightly obscuring Megatron's view. "Aren't you going to ask me to dance or shall I pursue that lovely green and orange fellow?"

Megatron grunted as a fast paced song began playing and he stood, offering his servo to Mirage.

"You know how to dance?"

"I have no clue what dancing even is." Megatron blinked at the flippant response.

"Then why did you agree?"

"I'm willing to try anything once." Mirage chuckled, optics dim as he looked at Megatron's thick, well-formed body. "Maybe even continue the practice if I find it worth my while."

Megatron stared down into sultry golden eyes, his hands sliding onto Mirage's hips just as a sharp note was played in the music.

"I lead, you follow." He ordered, sliding his servo up Mirage's spinal strut to jerk him forward, their chests colliding and their pelvic gimbals grinding together momentarily before Mirage found himself straddling Megatron's thigh, their legs braided together as their bodies moved to the music, Megatron guiding and Mirage following willingly.

Soon servos were touching and Mirage was moving gracefully with the much larger mech, amazed that the miner, despite his large bulk, could move his body quite well. Mirage gasped as he moved against the larger mech, placing his thin servos on a thick neck to feel the liquid power pulsing through him, his hands fanning out against Megatron's shoulders to grope the thick armor covered with warning tape.

"This is dancing?" Mirage whispered, his mouth inches from Megatron's, his tongue flicking out to lick Megatron's olfactory sensor. Megatron inhaled the scent of rich high grade, expensive wax and lubricant seeping off of the elitist, his hands moving over the thin body in his grasp, easily wrapping around his head and waist to pull him closer, their ex-vents mingling and fogging their optic lenses.

Mirage let out a high pitched, breathy sound of pleasure and Megatron lunged forward, capturing Mirage's full white lower lip between his sharp dentae.

"Mirage!" Mirage gasped as he was jerked away, Elite Guard glaring at Megatron. "Your Creator Decimus has had us looking everywhere for you. And where do we find you? In this place with a stranger?"

"He saved me, I was just thanking him for being chivalrous."

"Well thank him with credits, not your body." Mirage looked back at Megatron wistfully before following the guard out of the establishment. Megatron sighed and ran his hands over his helm.

"Decimus…? The Senator?"