So pre-war!Orion Pax/Megatronus bromance is my new favourite thing.

A few quick notes: I really enjoy the brotherly dynamics between Megatronus and Orion Pax, and tend to write them more as siblings than as correspondents, thus accounting for the slight differentiation in Orion's persona. I apologize for that.

Also, this is based loosely off the Alex Irvine novels - in which Orion doesn't instigate contact with Megatronus until he is already Megatron - as well as Transformers: Prime - in which it is alluded to that Orion knew Megatronus before he knew Megatron. In the spirit of using fun names, I will stick closer to the Prime cartoon in that regard.

Other than that, everything was self-edited and mistakes are solely mine. The characters, however fun they may be to play with, do not belong to me.

On with the show.

There was a special silence on Cybertron that could only be uncovered deep under the surface of the planet, a type of crushing noiselessness accurately giving the impression that tonnes of material was pressing down on you from above; a pulsing nothingness located far from the smelting pits, construction sites, and gladiatorial arenas so often found in the teeming underbelly of Kaon. It was difficult to remove oneself from the agony of the lower castes, but once one was plunged into the silence of the earth, one almost wished for sound again.

In a desolate steel room, one of many identical ones issued to the fighters of Kaon, this silence reigned, broken only by the steady beat of pacing, gunmetal-gray pedes working their way back and forth across the diameter of the room in stabilizing succession. The massive 'bot to whom the pedes belonged trained his ruby gaze straight ahead of him, wickedly pointed servos clasped behind his back with some difficulty due to the intimidating ion cannon wielded to his right forearm. His mind was occupied with other matters, unfocused on what his body was doing, the pacing merely habit. Though his stare pierced, there was nothing on the receiving end.

A sound, one other than that which he made, penetrated the warrior's thoughts. He instantly snapped to alertness, eyes fixing on the slowly opening door. Another head peered in, eyes equally as red as the gladiator's own but lowered purposely and fearfully to the floor. "Excuse me, my liege. Orion Pax is here to see you."

The shift in emotion was palpable only by the straightening of the robot's spinal strut. A miniscule smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but he quickly quashed the action. "I have told you time and again, Barricade. Orion Pax may come and go as he pleases without the constant need for security. He is my friend and he shall not undergo all this unreasonable formality while I still function, is that understood?" He growled with a voice like two stones grating together.

If it were in any way possible for the guard to lower his gaze more, he did so. "Of course, Lord Megatronus. It shall be as you say." He left as quickly as he appeared, his helm replaced by that of another. The blue and red robot, substantially smaller than the gray, came into the room and closed the door behind him, approaching Megatronus in a casual fashion unlike one should assume when in the presence of such a terrifying being. In response, Megatronus walked up to meet him.

"Orion, I was not expecting you to come today." Megatronus said, clasping hands with Orion Pax.

The young librarian smiled up at his companion. "The combination of your guard and your greeting make me feel very unwelcome today, Megatronus," he teased gently.

A smile wormed itself over the larger robot's faceplates. "Of course, my friend. It does my spark good to see you again."

Orion Pax nodded. "To you as well, brother." His optics shifted to numerous scratches along the floor, a result of Megatronus' pacing. "Though you do seem particularly anxious today."

Megatronus allowed himself a chuckle deep within his chest. Nothing escaped Orion Pax's notice. "You recall I have been speaking of an important battle lately?"

The librarian seated himself on the berth at the far end of the room, wide blue optics fixated on his friend. "That is today, is it not?"

Megatronus nodded. "I would not trust my superior officers with this information, but," his voice lowered confidentially, "I am a tad... uneasy."

Orion Pax laughed good-naturedly. "The mighty Megatronus? Afraid of a gladiator battle? Cybertron cease to spin!"

Megatronus aimed a playful swat at his friend's head, enough to effortlessly decapitate any smaller 'bot, but Orion Pax merely ducked under the massive arm. "Laugh as you may, Orion, but it won't be you going out into the arena today.

Orion Pax sobered marginally. "Have you seen your opponent?"

"He is a gladiator who goes by the name of Thrasher, big enough to rival my strength and abilities." Megatronus quieted for a moment, allowing the weight of the surface to crush the noise in the room. "I hate to say it, but I believe I am not the favourite to win this round."

Orion Pax's optics widened in surprise and Megatronus resisted the impulse to smile again. It was so simple, the way the clerk wore his expression, outright and honest. He hid nothing and had nothing to hide. For a nanoklik Megatronus envied his brother's innocence and naïvety. Orion Pax looked away briefly, gathering his thoughts in the comfortably quiet way he possessed, then said, "I cannot give you information on this Thrasher, nor can I attempt to educate you on battle tips since it is evident that you would know far more than me on that subject. However, from what you've taught me, there is always a weakness. You must only find and exploit it." The clerk's stare, equally as intense as his own but soft in his own way, once again met that of Megatronus. "I only suggest you keep a level head and fight with strategy rather than brute strength."

The warrior mulled over these words, then nodded, the hard edge on his gaze softening some. "You speak wisely, my friend, for one who has not even been in real combat."

Orion Pax pushed himself to his feet and put one hand on Megatronus' shoulder. "I only wish you did not have to fight these battles in the first place."

Something hard wedged itself in Megatronus' spark and a deep-set hatred for the caste system rose to the surface, manifesting itself through his words. "The Council has made sure that this is so, Orion, and we can only hope to change that in the future." Orion Pax nodded solemnly, and Megatronus felt a wave of appreciation for the smaller 'bot. He considered sharing this with Orion Pax, but settled instead on placing one hand on his shoulder. The feeling of standing as one, connected though separate, seemed to convey his gratitude in a way words never could.

Once again, the door opened and in peeked Barricade. "My lord, they have requested your presence in the main battle arena."

Megatronus lifted his helm, once more adopting the air of a proud warrior, and exited the room with Orion Pax trailing slightly behind him, trotting to keep up with his companion's longer strides.

Megatronus glanced down at his friend. Orion Pax's faceplates were twisted in concentration, attempting to match his stride with the gladiator's but needing to jog every few paces to stay by his side. Megatronus turned his optics forward uncomfortably for some time before once again directing them to the 'bot next to him. "Orion, you needn't stay if you..." he didn't finish. He didn't need to.

Orion Pax shook his helm firmly. "No, I shall if not just to remind you to relax a little once all this is over. Besides," something mischievous sparked in his blue gaze, "I have ten Energon cubes on you."

Megatronus laughed, deep and rich, loud enough to make passing Cybertronians stare before carefully averting their eyes. Orion Pax laughed with him.

All too soon, the librarian left to explore more of Kaon, preferring not to watch the carnage that was sure to follow but making sure to stay close so they could meet again once the match was over. Megatronus stood centered on the circular disc that would lead to the battle grounds. He ran a systems check while he waited, pleased to find that his physician had been thorough and competent.

A jarring shudder ran through his chassis from his pedes as the disc began its ascent into the arena; first slowly, then faster. Megatronus looked upwards, into the blinding circle of white light growing steadily larger as he rose. With a flourish, Megatronus was lifted into the arena and his sensory arrays were bombarded. The huge fluorescent lights overhead washed the entire area with a harsh glare, reflections from the bodies of other Cybertronians glinting at him from the hysterical spectators in the stands and the piles of carcasses at his feet alike. The silence of the underground was smothered beneath the roar of hundreds upon thousands of viewers, optics all gleaming with malicious glee and a hunger for Energon. Smoke wafted up from a body to his direct left, countless blaster burns still causing its metal to smoulder and sting his olfactory sensors. Megatronus closed his optics, though not because of the corpse. He could feel energy pulsing and weaving around him like a predator, simultaneously filling him with disgust at the world in which he lived and anticipation for the fight, for the pain, for the blood.

He opened his eyes and thrust his arms into the air. The thunder of the crowd tripled. This was his element, his sanctuary.

This was his home.

A chant began to fill the stadium, a beat as steady as that of a spark.

MEGATRONUS! MEGATRONUS! MEGATRONUS!

Megatronus basked in it, allowing the energy of the stands to fill him.

A thud behind him made him turn. There, rising on a disc identical to the one off which he just stepped, came one of the largest gladiators Megatronus had ever seen. His green and black armour was riddled with messy wield marks and dents, evidence of megacycles in the arena. His limbs were a hodgepodge of scavenged parts, one arm once belonging to a warrior much smaller than him and the other replaced completely with a gigantic fusion cannon. He stood taller than Megatronus himself, mouth obscured by a battle mask and optics blazing crimson. The crowd screamed to meet this new 'bot.

This was Thrasher, the legend said to rival Megatronus.

Megatronus' eyes narrowed dangerously. That legend would die today.

Thrasher did not raise his arms to provoke the crowd, as Megatronus believed he would. Instead, he simply stared at the champion with open loathing. All at once, Megatronus realized that Thrasher was not a dumb opponent, as he had previously hoped. Large opponents were, generally, dumb opponents, and though Megatronus hated to admit this to himself, there had been an inkling in his spark that perhaps Thrasher would have an obvious weakness such as this. However, Thrasher merely stood before Megatronus, still and prepared.

Megatronus assessed his rival, scanning his frame for weak welds or thin plating or exposed wiring. He realized with a burst of irritation that Thrasher's physician was nearly as good as his own. Having no other plan of action, Megatronus charged at the monstrosity with a shout that was lost in that of the crowd's.

It was like a holoprojection suddenly sparking to life. Thrasher rushed to meet Megatronus with astonishing acceleration, a roar of equal magnitude ripping from his vocals. Megatronus barely dodged the razor claws that were swung towards him, cursing violently as his only other presumed advantage, speed, was matched evenly with the larger bot's. Recovering quickly, Megatronus fired a barrage of plasma shots at Thrasher's back and felt a surge of pleasure when they made contact.

The surge died when Thrasher merely turned and bolted at Megatronus again, landing a blow in his chestplate hard enough to send the gladiator halfway across the arena and slamming unceremoniously into a heap of scrap metal.

As the cold metal dug into Megatronus' back and Thrasher's looming form blocked the glaring light above, Megatronus allowed something deep and primal well up in his spark. Red hot, like a plasma blast through the chest, this was pure unequalled rage. It spread through his limbs and circuitry, filling his being with power and his processor with a burning haze. A ragged scream, loud enough to carry over the roar of the crowd, tore from his vocals and the stale air around him seemed to vibrate with his fury. Thrasher, apparently unaccustomed to such displays of emotion from his enemies, paused for a beat.

That was all Megatronus required. He levelled his fusion cannon at Thrasher's spark chamber, discharging with all the pent up power he possessed. At the last moment, Thrasher flung himself to the side and the resulting plasma shot tore a hole straight through the width of his modified gun arm. Exposed wiring sparking promisingly, the largest weapon in Thrasher's arsenal was rendered useless. Megatronus refused himself a moment of triumph. While the obvious threat was incapacitated, he still had to deal with the rest of the gladiator.

The shot in Megatronus' favour enraged Thrasher, and the patchwork warrior lunged for Megatronus, remaining arm drawn back and claws extended. Megatronus grit his denta against the strike to his forearm, staving off the blow at the cost of deep scratches in his armour. Locked in a power struggle, the two fighters heaved against each other in effort to gain the upper hand. Thrasher shot lubricant from his mouth and Megatronus withdrew instinctively, dodging Thrasher's strike to his helm while simultaneously clearing his optics. That was a dirty shot. This gladiator - if he could even be called such - had no honour.

"Resorting to cheap tricks instead of facing your doom like a warrior," Megatronus laughed at the similarity, though it was humourless, "you could be a member of the High Council, beast!"

A crooked grin cracked Thrasher's faceplates. "Talking instead of fighting. So could you." His small hand drifted to his subspace and emerged with a vibroblade the length of Megatronus' arm. A quick switch flip and the blade sparked with Energon-infused electricity. Megatronus stared at it, then glanced toward the stands. This was a gladiator match, attached weaponry only. One worked with what one could manifest, and that was all. Surely they would confiscate this monster of a weapon?

No movement from the stands besides the crescendo of cheers at the sight of an illegal blade. Megatronus was not getting help, trapped in the arena with this brutish robot and his now extended reach.

In any normal match, Thrasher would have been forced into stasis and the vibroblade destroyed by the arena masters. The lack of action only confirmed the inkling of a theory clawing at the back of Megatronus' processor. He was being manipulated.

The arena masters wanted him offline.

It was like the High Council's tendency to simply make problems disappear was a virus, spreading to the depths of even Kaon. Soon it would infect all of Cybertron, just as with the rest of the leaders' fragged ideas, forcing the planet into further latent stagnancy. This was exactly what Megatronus was fighting against. He could not let the corrupt authority gain power over him.

Thrasher rushed him, blade raised high over his helm. Flicking out his own sword, Megatronus rose to meet the larger robot. Thrasher would die tonight, and he would die with a show. Let him be an example that no one raised a fist against the mighty Megatronus!

Steel sang through the stale air, accented with the clash of metal on metal when the blades connected. Thrasher had power on his side and, in an uncommon instance, was the bigger of the two. Megatronus, while smaller and slightly more agile, had something to fight for other than his life: a better Cybertron. With his dream burning behind his optics, Megatronus fought like the Prime for which he was named. Against the full might of Megatronus' wrath, Thrasher found the vibroblade spinning into the stands, quickly absorbed by the throngs of fans who were willing to get servos sliced off for a souvenir. Empowered, Megatronus sheathed his blade. Without so much as a parting word to his opponent, Megatronus shot out both of Thrasher's knee joints, sending the titan sinking to the ground.

Megatronus put a servo on either side of Thrasher's helm and squeezed. The metal of the helmet crumbled between his hands, giving way to the softer neural net. Energon flooded between his fingers as he compressed the once living head into scrap metal. The roar of the crowd deafened him to the sound of crunching metal, but he could feel it vibrate throughout his frame. This, this, was victory.

Finally Megatronus allowed his faceplates to turn up in a well-deserved smile. This was the future.

Raising his arms so Energon dripped down their lengths, covered in lubricant and fresh battle scars, Megatronus turned to the crowd.

"I STILL FUNCTION!"

The stands went ballistic.

The noise still assaulted Megatronus' auditory components as he descended into the pits of Kaon. As he ducked out of the public eye, he touched one finger to his mouth, licking off the spilled Energon. Ah, victory was sweet.

He sobered as he approached two figures at the end of the contestant tunnels. One, short and boxy, could only be Orion Pax. Odd for the librarian, he often waited until Megatronus had been patched up before they met again after a match. The other, taller than he appeared and dramatically designed, belonged to the communications expert Soundwave.

Orion Pax was only just short of bouncing in place. "It seems I bet wisely, my friend! I could hear the crowd from the market stalls. I feared the ceiling would cave from the noise!"

Megatronus spared the barest of smiles at Orion Pax, continuing down the corridor. His two companions fell into step on either side. "Soundwave, find out which of the arena bosses allowed that brute to bring in a charged vibroblade." With the officer's skill and resources, Megatronus expected to have a name within the next megacycle. Then, once Orion Pax was gone of course, Shockwave would have a new test subject. "Make haste. Once he finds out I seek him, he will flee." The masked officer nodded once, and vanished down a connecting hall.

Orion Pax paused to stare at Soundwave's retreating form for a moment before catching up to Megatronus. "You appear as though you require an oil soak, my friend."

A tired chuckle rumbled from Megatronus' chest. "I would not have time even if the luxury were an option, Orion."

"You really must relax more," teased the archivist. "You are as coiled as a turbo-fox, and twice as edgy." He fiddled absentmindedly with something in his servos.

Megatronus glanced over. "What is that?" It was streamlined, with small thrusters on the sides and a lens adorning the tip.

Orion Pax merely smiled. "Something I picked up in the market with my winnings. I daresay you will see it in time."

"Keep your secrets, librarian," the gladiator laughed. "However I must bid you goodbye. I must see my physician, an encounter you will likely not wish to witness."

"You would be correct." Orion Pax clasped Megatronus' shoulder in a parting gesture, a tiny shift in his facial plates announcing he was indeed aware of the Energon now clinging to his servo. "Until next time, brother."

Megatronus returned the gesture with his cleaner hand. "Until next time." And Orion Pax departed.

Megatronus did not appear in the medical bay until Soundwave reported back with the name and location of the arena master in charge of confiscating illegal weapons. Even then, there were some gouges and dents that the medic could have sworn looked fresher than those Megatronus obtained during his match. After his repairs, Megatronus retreated to his quarters with instructions not to be disturbed until he emerged. Collapsing on his berth and allowing himself one small moment of vulnerability, Megatronus gave himself up to a deep recharge.

Onlining slowly, basking in the luxury of feeling his spark beat in its chamber for one more day, Megatronus drifted out of recharge. His self-repair programs had done their job, and his system functionings were up twenty percent. The repair process absorbed a fair quantity of his remaining Energon stores, and a low-energy warning flashed irritatingly on his central HUB.

Venting massively, Megatronus heaved himself off his berth. Time to replenish his Energon.

A movement out of the corner of his eye, and Megatronus froze instinctively. Agonizingly slow, he turned his optics to the movement and uttered a sound unlike anything a battle-hardened gladiator would exhibit.

He was staring back at himself through a mirror, but there were two triangle bits of metal stuck to his helm! His faceplates boasted differing layers of a darker gray and a metallic white. Three wires protruded from either side of his helm, dancing about.

A turbo-fox.

A flash caught his dumbfounded stare and he turned quick enough to see a small, thruster-powered drone vanish into the open air grate. Through the roiling of his mind as to what had just happened, a memory surfaced; an offhand comment by a certain clerk.

Pointed servos clenching, an animalistic growl arose in Megatronus' chest. It increased in volume as Megatronus only realized it made him sound like a turbo-fox too. Raising his arms above his head, the great gladiator bested by a data-harvester shouted into the silence of the underground.

"ORION!"

A ways out of Kaon, a little surveillance drone landed in the outstretched servo of Orion Pax, and the librarian laughed.

"Optimus, have you refuelled at all today?!"

The angry tone in Ratchet's accusation drew Optimus Prime from his work, though he pointedly did not look away from the computer screens spanning out before him. His own inflection decidedly blunt, he replied, "I have been busy."

"Fat lot of help you'll be if you're offline. Go refuel. Now."

Optimus Prime turned and fixed Ratchet with an expressionless blue stare. "Soon." He returned his optics to the screen and that was the end of the matter.

The rasp of metal against metal, and Optimus Prime could see Ratchet throw his hands up, exasperated, in his mind's eye. From the other end of the missile silo, Bulkhead glanced up. "You really need to loosen your gears, OP. You're more tense than a turbo-fox."

For a tiny instant, Optimus Prime's servos stilled over the keyboard. They rapidly resumed their electronic exploration, the other Autobots none the wiser, but Bulkhead's comment cast the Prime's thoughts elsewhere. Something weighed heavy and burdensome in his subspace.

The moment he was sure all optics were occupied, Optimus Prime reached into his subspace and drew out a square of material. The picture printed upon it was worn from the weight of his painfully nostalgic gaze, bit by bit over several millennia. Edges ragged, colours faded to almost monochrome, but still retaining its spark-aching memories. Megatronus: half-sitting on his berth, expression frozen in shock, with two little metal ears sticking out above his helm.

Optimus Prime shut his eyes, tucking the picture back into his subspace and returning to the screens. The longer he stared at the picture, the more he ached for his brother. That hadn't changed over centuries worth of fighting. He remembered those times fondly, and couldn't count the number of instances he wished for the days of Megatron's friendship and council. Those days were long behind them now.

Optimus Prime continued with his work, fully aware of the dull ache in his spark and the tight hitch of his shoulder struts, tense as a turbo-fox.

END