Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

*No one can remember a time before ......

D-16 read those words repeatedly again, and again, and again hoping each time that the sentence would somehow magically end differently. The worst part was that he wrote those words and could change them as he pleased but he was frozen like a cyber-buck in headlights. D-16 felt whatever followed those words was important, more important than any other piece of poetry he had ever written. He looked around himself for inspiration. Macadams Old Oil House was busy like it was every night, despite selling some of the best high-grade oil on Cybertron Macadam kept his prices low. This meant the establishment was popular amongst both low class miners, construction workers and other kinds of ‘unskilled labourers’ in-between shifts as well as more well off Iacon residents. D-16 had already written so many poems about this place second only to Kaon’s Energon mines, the only poem he had ever received financial compensation for was his first about this place when the usually reclusive Macadam paid him a fair bit of units to display the poem in an upstairs VIP club, that was a few hundred years ago and D needed the money more now than he did back then.

Working in the mines provides free housing near bye but power and any other expenses needed to be payed with your own units. This meant most bots had to find second jobs to afford to stay alive most commonly volunteering for scientific experiments or gladiatorial fights both of which were very dangerous. D had avoided this for a few centuries by making above quota regularly, but now each shift brought up less and less Raw energon which meant even productive miners like himself were feeling the non-cave in related pressure. Rumour was that the Cybertronian high council were considering introducing a policy that allowed mine owners to revoke housing privileges for inefficient workers of course it was just a rumour but over his life D-16 had learned the high council was incredibly predicable.

“Truly beautiful words Dee, you’ve truly outdone yourself this time. It was a brave choice to keep it so Short.” a raspy yet energetic voice said from behind. D turned back around to face the crimson flamboyant bot sitting next to him who was holding D’s data pad playfully. This was Knockout a body modification surgeon who lived in Kaon but worked in Iacon meaning he stopped here at Macadams on his way home from work, D wouldn’t go as far as calling him a friend more an unintentionally frequent drinking buddy. D grabbed his data pad out of Knockout’s hand and reattached it to his hip.

“What have I told you about touching my stuff!” D yelled a little too loud before calming down “Sorry that was an overreaction. Why do you even sit down here still anyway? Don’t you make enough units to enter the VIP room upstairs?” D-16 asked.

“OH Primus! It's so truly boring up there it’s full of Military stuck ups who couldn’t recognize a joke if you glued it to their optics. Not to mention the ......” Knockout was cut off by the sudden eruption of yells in the bar coming from a group of construction bots huddled around a hollow screen showing off tonight's race.

“YOU Saw it right here folks! Taking home his third consecutive Iacon grand prix trophy it’s the Blue Blitz Himself BLURR!!!” the commentator shouted.

“That’s hardly fair, he’s from Velocitron you know?” Knockout scoffed gesturing behind him towards the hollow screen before finishing his drink.

“Aren't you from Velocitron?” D-16 responded shuffling a seat closer to Knockout to make room for a larger Bot who had just sat down beside him.

“Technically but I’m not participating in Professional Races.” D gave him a knowing look Knockout rolled his optics “Well my races aren’t Televised that’s truly the problem.” Knockout raised his arm to catch the Bartenders attention “Sir can I get another galaxy swirl coolant thank you.” The Turquoise moustached bartender approached and Handed Knockout his drink. “Thanks, Your Truly a life saver Bar keep.” Knockout chuckled the Bar Keep groaned before turning to D-16

“Can Get you anything Miner. He asked.

“Oh, may have a refill on my Low Grade.” D handed his cup to the Bar Keep who began filling it with cheap unrefined oil. The fact he could so easily be clocked as a miner made D uncomfortable, he’d experienced it his whole life When a bot above him needed to speak to him or any of his comrades they would say “Hy Miner” or “Get over here Worker!” of course his comrades in the mines referred to themselves with names rather than numbers as a small act of Rebelion but when asked his name D would always respond ‘D-16’ his number. It’s not that he liked in truth he despised it Higher ranked bots weren't assigned numbers, but low ranked bots were because they weren't seen as sentient beings, they were worker bees serving queens they will never meet. D wanted a name but where others saw it as a first step on the path of resistance, he saw it as the finish line something he would someday earn after he made a name for himself as a galaxy renounced poet. “No one can remember a time before .... we had to take our own names?” D muttered to himself. Knockout cocked his head looking confused.

“Since when did you ever wax poetry here anyway? You used to say it was too distracting an environment.” Knockout asked in-between sips of his Coolant. D-16 sighed before taking a heavy swig of is drink.

“In all honesty I was struck with such inspiration during my last shift I needed to write ASAP but once I finished those words I didn’t .... I couldn’t come up with anything I felt like those would be important.” D felt embarrassed saying this, no one read his work he couldn’t publish them that ‘wasn’t his function’ all he could do was submit them to the Iacon Hall of Records's Collection of Public Thoughts where after a few thousand years they would be organised and be put on public display. Along time ago one particularly rude data clerk told him.

“Unless you can somehow transform into a Typewriter and a Drill, I recommend you go scrap yourself” At the time the comment enraged him to the point his response almost got him Arrested, but now he saw it as a perfect dissection of the Functionist Society where bots were assigned careers depending on the Alternative mode they had been forged with, the system Cybertron had been operating on since the end of the Quintison wars 300 Million years ago. Of course, from his perspective as a Bot forged with the alt mode of stationary mining equipment it was frustrating to be denied his passion revolving around the written word, but he had come to imagine the opposite perspective. What if a bot maybe from Iacon or Crystal-City (supposedly the two fountains of Cybertron’s culture) who was forged as some sort of musical device was forced to create art but art with no life experience to draw upon is worthless so this theoretical bot would be stuck attempting to reproduce the classical works of Cybertron’s so called “Golden Age” and maybe this bot would grow tired and desire a more exciting life to draw inspiration from to hone their craft or to escape it entirely but so they might try become a miner in a desperate form of thrill seeking. But just like D they were not ‘Forged Right’ the system enraged D-16 because he knew so many other bots who couldn't handle the pressure to be trapped doing one thing for eternity and so many more who had theirs sparks snuffed out by the literal pressures of the Mines. But D was stubborn he refused to die until the day the concept of Functionism was forgotten buy the universe, whether violence was needed in-between then and now wasn’t a question he needed to ask, he knew the answer.

D-16 was jolted alert when the bar keep threw his hands up in the air aggressively with a frustrated. D turned to face where the bar keep was looking at, there was a maroon bot standing in the entrance with her arms crossed, she was built like a fighter and her lower body was coated in suet and grime. D-16 recognized her if he remembered correctly her name was Shatter , she was a fellow miner though she wasn’t in the deep energon mines like himself she was from the refineries on the higher levels.

“Shatter! How many times have I told you, If you’re Covered in Mine Filth go through the back entrance and get washed before you Come into the Bar!” The bar tender yelled. She scoffed and flipped him off.

“That weird Predacon mech was rummaging around in the back again!” she shouted back as she walked behind the counter. The bar keep swore to himself and swiftly made his way into a back room Shatter immediately took over the counter while he was gone. D had gathered that Shatter took this up as her second job .

“Will you need to find off shift work?” Knockout asked as if he had been reading D’s mind. D-16 stunned by the question and by the uncharacteristically sincere nature Knockout asked it in froze for a moment.

“I’ve already found work.” D responded bluntly. Knockout relaxed and leaned back in his seat again.

“That’s truly Great where will you be working?” Knockout asked , D felt tense he downed his entire cup before answering.

“I applied for some testing at home in Kaon .” Knockout glared cautiously. “ Oh no nothing crazy or dangerous like what the do out in The Rust Sea or at Metroplex just some , physicality stuff. How much can you lift? How fast can you transform? Stuff like that I start after my next shift and those tests will be going on for the foreseeable future.” D-16 explained. Knockout chuckled

“Golly, you truly are a proactive bot well I hope that goes well for you.” D noticed Knockout had begun looking past him and was making eyes at the large bulky bot behind him, D took this as a good time to leave.

“Well I should get going don’t want to miss the hyper-tram.” D stood up paid his tab and excited Macadams to left his friend to his flirtation. D began walking towards the train station though he look around he though The Linkup was beautiful at night not that there was much difference between day and night on Cybertron. He found the history of this small city fascinating the city was built almost entirely as a result of Macadams Old Oil House you see the bar was a relatively old building even by Cybertronian standards being built at the tail end of the Golden age presumably the bar changed name and management at some point otherwise the ever reclusive Macadam must have been the oldest bot on Cybertron. At the time the bar would have been a lone building in the middle of the shifting wastes between Iacon and Kaon so when the time came to inevitably create a superhighway to connect the two cities the High council decided it should through the bar and a few centuries later an entire city springs up.

D-16 turned a corner and stopped at the opening of an Alleyway usually after drinking at Macadams D would stop by her and feed a stray Mini-con but he didn’t seem to be around. D was about to continue on his way when something caught his optic, D turned to face a massive screen advertising ‘Clench’s colosseum in central Kaon’ about a quarter mile in the air above him and a few thousand feet across from him.

D-16 had always been a good liar, he didn’t lie often but when he did he almost always got away with it. He lied to Knockout about applying for scientific tests he was going into the gladiatorial pits. He lied because he didn’t want his friend to worry though that's not how D would put it he would say he did it so that none would pity him or try convince him to change his mind. If he was going to be forced to sell himself to survive he would do it in way where everyone could see him he would either die in a blaze of glory or use those same flames to forge himself into something greater. D-16 gritted his teeth and clenched his fist he was angry he would scream his voice box out if not for his pride, instead he took a deep inhale knelt down and picked up a piece of scrap of the ground he looked down at it , weighed it in his servo before finally exhaling. He then threw the piece of scrap as hard as he could at the hollow screen at first it flew right through the glass screen but after a few nanocycles the glass began to creak and then shattered before gliding down like a beautiful shower of stars. D-16 smirked and turned to begin walking again.

“I think I'll write a poem about that”

*No one can remember a time before we hade to kill each other to live*

Chapter Text

*No one can remember a time before we had to kill each other to live*

*Kill each other just to ......

D-16 stood Infront of the Colosseum entrance shuffling uncomfortably, something about the Sublevels under Kaon made him uncomfortable he wasn’t alone, some said the Sublevels were too dark or too cramped he did not feel that way he had been in cave-ins before he knew what true darkness looked like and he had felt real constriction. Others said the ‘Hostile architecture’ intimidated them, only outsiders said that it was true however even more so for the top layer of the city colossal spikes that reached for the stars and impossibly deep trenches were understandable turn off. D didn’t think that either, what made him uncomfortable about the bowls of his home was why they existed. Kaons surface was mostly populated by museums, hotels, theatres and snobbish clubs with expensive drinks. All things Kaon residents either didn’t need or couldn’t afford while all the necessities like hospitals, recharge stations and Spare Part storage were underground. The city was designed so that when the wealthy elite visit Kaon they did not have to see the lower class, unless they choose to visit The Colosseum. Audience members entered from the surface meanwhile the gladiators entered from the lower floors.

D walked inside and was greeted with an obnoxiously clean white room only decorated with posters advertising upcoming fights and events each with a more overdramatic title than the last “Overlord vs Berserker a clash of the Titians” the poster depicted two bulky bots with their backs turned to each other D assumed there must be some sort of history between the two. “ApeFace and Snapdragon reunited but will it be enough to end Scorponok’s reign of terror?” that poster had a big red ugly ‘event cancelled’ stamp across it. The last poster caught his attention a pure black image with a single glowing red optic at its centre the white text said, “The Rookie Breaker is back in town, look out!” he was curious if this poster had anything with the ‘event cycle’ that the Gladiatorial pits operated on. D-16 did a fair amount of research on the culture and trends around the pits, so he knew that for most of a solar cycle the fights were entirely volunteer reliant every bot for themselves battle royales though D thought slaughter fest was a better way to describe them, among fans of the sport this period was called “Sieving” as the gold was separated from the scrap . After these, promising volunteers who were proven winners and were popular among the crowds were promoted to prop talent for the established fighters if even after that you refused to die you would become a name, someone everybody knew a Big Shot and partake in the flashy (not at all scripted) fights at fancy colosseums across Cybertron. D-16 shook himself out of his own head he didn’t care about that he only fought to survive ....... not that he enjoyed his life, all his life was inside the mines he hated the mines with all his spark because they made him hate Cybertron he didn’t want to hate Cybertron the planet wasn’t the problem its democracy council was.

D approached the bot sitting at the reception. She was small with a shiny blue paint job D thought he caught her polishing herself as he walked in.

“Hello, are you here to volunteer for an upcoming fight or are you partaking in today's Fight” She asked cheerfully.

“I’m here for today.” D responded handing over his data pad which presented all the documentation he filed last time he was here with this exact same receptionist, including his “certificate of consensual end” the document that protected the pits from any legal responsibilities.

“Okay deary, before I send you in, I need to ask do you have any built-in weaponry.” she asked D lifted his left arm showing off the cylindrical jack hammer that was attached to him since the day he was forged it was still dirty from today's work in the mine.

“Does this count?” he asked she gave a quick once over of the equipment.

“My enquiry was referring to energon based ranged weapons, so no.” she replied still smiling though there was a hint of distain in her voice. “Alrighty then, please make your way down the hall enter your code into the console and your box will come there may already be another bot in there they will function as your teammate in the arena. You can leave any personal belongings you don’t want damaged in the arena in the green box on the way, please be aware if you perish during combat all your possessions left on the premises as well as your body become property of Clench’s Combat Corp.”

“I thought the fights were every bot for himself?” D asked ignoring the disgusting second half of her statement.

“Due to an abundance of applicants this season there has been an alteration to the format, do not worry this only increases your chances not that you need it You Look Like a Winner.” that last part was clearly some sort of slogan she had to say.

 

D-16 did as he was instructed by depositing his Data Pad and input his code at the end of the hallway, he began to hear mechanical wiring and crunching above him this wasn’t unusual for large buildings on cybertron to have moving internal components. The door ahead of him opened and he stepped inside, the door immediately closed, and the elevator began ascending after a few minutes it came to a sudden stop the door reopened, D walked into the next dimly lit empty chamber. Like the receptionist said there was another bot inside, he was sitting in the corner curled up in a ball when he noticed D he bolted up and stood straight trying to hide his anxiety. He was scrawny painted mostly black with bulky shoulders covered with dirty white racing stripes, D could tell from the soot and dents that he worked underground too clean and frankly D thought too pathetic looking to be a miner but too battered to work on the surface. His twitchy fearful face was framed by a purple head crest which was clearly not maintained it was rusty cracked and deformed.

“He....Hello.... Hi ... I guess I’m your part.... you're my partner were Partners. Hi I’m B0-22.” The short bot sputtered out holding himself defensively. D-16 was silently judging him this bot was weak, this bot was scared, this bot would not survive.

“What’s your story?” D asked as sat down faking interest.

“I’m a security officer on sublevel 50.” 22 responded. There was a long pause as D expected him to continue but he didn’t. D gathered that was all he saw himself as B0-22 a security officer that's what their society did to people it defiled them down to numbers and jobs. Hearing another bot refer to themselves with their number made him uncomfortable, made him feel vulnerable. He saw others with numbers as weak or compliant but speaking with one forced him to apply that same standard to himself, it meant he couldn’t cope and lie to himself by say he was Waiting to earn a name as a famous poet, but D knew you couldn’t make a name for yourself like that at best you would be given one and if your given a name is it really your name or is it Just a new number. The real reason D believed he had to earn a name because he believed he didn’t deserve one, he and this small bot who he was paired with by pure chance they were the same.

“I thought security officers were still paid well?” D asked suspecting he knew the answer. 22 rubbed his neck and looked at the floor in embarrassment.

“I owe a lot of units to a very mean bot, I waste too much money in his casino and now he wants 2,000 units by tomorrow or he’ll send one of his psychos after me and.... and.... and They’ll strip me for parts while I’m still alive for as long as possible .. and then ... and then they, they, they ....” he broke down into stuttering and nonsense.

“You’re scared. You don’t want to die helpless, so you have chosen to take a risk, die swinging for a crow giving superficial meaning to your life with a small chance to save yourself.” D said calmly trying to sympathise with his new partner. They continued talking for what felt like hours sharing stories, regrets and ambitions or in 22’s case lack of ambitions. D recited poems, many poems some of his some that inspired him at first 22 didn’t seem to understand the intricate subtext and metaphors but D could sense the words resonated with him.

“Wow man, that's defiantly the best Poetry I have ever heard, way better than that historical propaganda scrap they shove down our throats.” 22 chuckled the conversation had calmed both of them by distracting them from their situation. “Heh man I don’t think I asked your name.” 22 asked but before D could respond a sudden voice echoed through the entire Colosseum.

“Hellllllloooooooo!!! All you beautiful Bots. Are you ready forrrrrrrrrr a SHOWW!!” even from out there the cheers from the crowed where audible D could even make out a few words mostly ones that expressed inpatients. “I’m your fabulous commentator for tonight, Sandstorm! Back from my brief sabbatical over in Iacon for that race that went on recently, Let Me Tell you folks if you Thought That Grand Prix was Brutal, well Clearly, You’ve Never Been to CLENCH’S COMBAT ARENAAAAAA!!!!!” the charismatic presentator announced. D tried to tune out his continued promoting and turned his attention back to 22 as they both stood up, he was shaking and twitching again even worse than before. D-16 gritted his teeth they should have spent this time strategizing how to survive, He placed a hand on 22’s shoulder but D made sure it was not a gesture of reassurance he made sure it felt firm and uncomfortable. He locked eyes with the panicking bot 22 flinched, D had successfully relayed his message without a word. Stop Panicking or you will die. The floor opened as racks of weapons rose from beneath. D quickly deciphered which sword he wanted and took it off the rack as Sandstorm began speaking again.

“Right now, our over 50 fighters are picking out their instruments of BATTLE! Let's hope everyone chooses wisely!!” D wanted to weld his mouth shut. He picked out a sword that was heavy but not too unwieldily, he wanted a shield, but he couldn’t attach a thick one to his free hand because of his jackhammer so compromised and attached a light buckler to his sword arm as well as a mace to his hip. D-16 turned to 22 who had stopped twitching.

“Are you fast?” D asked bluntly insuring 22 knew he wanted an answer quickly. 22 nodded unable to speak as if there was a knot of wires in his voice box D was grateful is 22 was fast that meant he wouldn’t have too waste energy protecting him. “Do you have any built-in weapons?” there had been no compassion in D’s voice he needed B0-22 to know he was not safe, and he wouldn’t be safe until the end.

“Ye... yes.” 22’s hands transformed into razor sharp blades, they were black and white like the rest of his paint job but significantly cleaner they must not get much use. “I’m better with a gun .... b.... buh .... But I know how to use these!” 22 sputtered out determination building in his circuits D nodded encouraging him.

“Have you killed before?” D’s final question was the most important one 22 nodded again D smirked handing him a shield of his own “Than you’re more prepared than me. Keep moving, target bots that look weaker than you, cripple strong ones that give you opportunities but overall stay away from them they will pay more attention to me.” D instructed no mercy in his voice.

“Alright the time Hasssss comeeee!!!! LET THE BLOODSHHHHHHHEDDDDD BEGIN!!!!!” Sandstorm called out as the doors to their chamber door began open. Like the ugly reception room, the soft sand that the colosseum floor was made up of was an almost blinding white. D-16 knew why it meant that when the energon starts to spill, whether it be blue or pink would be visible even by the furthest observers. The viewing seats rose almost a hundred miles into the air, every seat was filled with a cheering bot, Tens of thousands of seats filled with tens of thousands of bots each itching to see something violent. Above the arena itself was a bridge-like structure that stretched across the entire pit, with transparent viewing ports through which D could see obnoxious golden rooms with comfortable seating clearly private booths for bots who could afford the deluxe experience. D turned his attention away from the arena instead to the other combatants, a couple dozen bots of all different shapes, sizes models and makes wandered out of their respective chambers most were in duos like D and 22 but some were alone their weapons already soaked in glowing energon Sandstorm either did not notice or didn’t think it worth pointing out.

D locked optics with a slim orange bot at the opposite side of the arena, they lifted their spear pointing towards him. A challenge. D planted his feet and formed a defensive stance he gestured behind him instructing 22 to remain still, he did as he was told. He would be a good solider. The orange bot transformed into motorcycle mode and raced across the arena their spear facing forward like a javelin. They cleared the kilometre long colosseum in nano-cycles when they got close to D-16 they transformed back into robot mode, spear back in hand they used their momentum to prepare a trust directly into D’s spark chamber. D reacted quickly by grabbing the spear before it made contact with his chest plate. He moved noting except what he needed to. He used the spear to pull the bot towards himself. They stumbled, they were not built for this. They stumbled directly into an upward sword slash from D. The momentum they had built up meant the blade cut cleanly through. They were cut in half. Pink Energon splattered across D’s silver plating. All that in just a few seconds, you would think that would make D feel something, anything it was his first kill after all, but no D felt nothing no remorse, no sympathy, no joy either maybe a twinge of rage towards the system that created this scenario but he didn’t need a new reason to hate the council . He had hundreds already. D knew he would have to kill again.

He would never even imagine how many that he would end up killing.

The crowd erupted into chorus of cheers over D-16's violent act, while he wasn’t here for it the admiration made him feel giddy. He was finally being seen.

“BRUTALLLLLL!!! That was one of the fastest first XXXXX-A-CUTIONS I’ve seen in my 95 years of commentating!!!” Sandstorm yelled out, D was confused why he said executions like that. “Don’t change that channel FOLKS!!! The Carnage will only get better from here!!” That was the first time D realised this fight would be televised that meant more people would be watching than he realised. D turned to 22 and nodded the smaller bot immediately transformed into vehicle mode a zoomed off. He did as he was instructed harassing smaller bots and keeping clear from ones who looked like they knew what they were doing. He would be a very good soldier. D was alerted when he felt a sudden vibration like a mini earthquake ripple through the sand, he deduced the source was a bulky cobalt blue bot fighting relatively close to him. She held an oversized steel shield which was being hammered relentlessly by a smaller frenzied bot every time he stuck the slab of metal blue light escaped the impact point, the light would then be absorbed into the Cobalt bot's body as this happened D noticed the vibrations grow stronger. The cobalt bot pulled her fist back it became emersed in the blue light and she decked the frenzied mech in the face, they flew across the entire arena crumbling into scrap metal as they did so. D felt the vibration stop abruptly. That was a dangerous ability and D wanted to get rid of her as soon as possible, he had a good understanding of how they worked. He needed to kill her in one attack, so he picked up the orange bots spear and began approaching her, she noticed him and did the same at her own sluggish pace.

 

Even while moving at sickening speed B0-22 still must have seen D-16 challenge the cobalt bot causing him to make a complete U-turn zooming straight for her. There was another bot in his way 22 leaped into the air by transforming slashed at the bot's head knocking them down, 22 had re-transformed before hitting the ground meaning he lost no speed and left that bot to be killed by someone else. D-16 saw that he knew now he had misjudged 22 clearly the roaring crowd liked it two. Sandstorm said something but D had learned to tune him out. D stopped a about twenty metres from the Cobalt bot, and she did the same he adopted his defensive stance again he wanted to goad her to attack him while she wasn’t charged but she wasn’t biting, she was a wall he couldn’t fight her on their terms. Luckily, he didn't have to as 22 came in like a missile transformed again but continued skidding across the ground and took a drive by slash at the back of the armoured bot’s knees. The attack was ineffective despite the number of sparks it released however it did succeed in distracting her she turned to face backwards not realising 22 was already long gone, the second her shield wasn’t protecting her entire body D threw the spear with all the strength his motors could muster. It flew, tearing through the air like a lightning bolt from the sky. It tore through her all the same. The spear met it’s intended mark D had aimed for what he assumed would be the weakest part of her body, her neck. The spear passed through mostly unbothered, but the handle got caught on something, the blue bot fell to her knees the spear lodged in her neck energon gushing out both sides like the fabled rivers of Cybertronian prehistory illuminated by the series of electrical sparks that also exited the wound.

“WHAT A LUKY SHOT FOLKS!!!! Our Miner friend has secured himself another Bru-Bru-BRUTAL KILL!!!” Sandstorm chanted annoying D-16, even here he was just a miner to the people above him. But to the crowd maybe he was something else. With the little energy she had left she raised her hands above her head and formed a circle with her fingers, the cybertronian universal symbol of surrender. There was nothing in the rules that said he had to spare her but he choose to respect her wishes, after all nothing said he had to kill her either. This choice was pointless anyway.

D-16 felt a sudden pain in his shoulder as a red and gold axe spun past him and lodged itself into the cobalt warrior’s chest killing her instantly. D wasn’t watching his back, he survived this time weather it was because of his thick plating designed to withstand the dangers of the mines or bad aim on his opponent's part D didn’t believe he would be so lucky next time. No one would ever try backstabbing him again, right?

“TANTRUM! TANTRUM! TANTRUM! TANTRUM!” the crowd chanted repeatedly. D turned to see a tall red and gold mech with a massive, armoured horned head protruding their chest he was brandishing the same kind of axe that had clipped D’s shoulder joint. Judging by the crowd's excitement they must have been a recognisable face, a rising star of sorts. With no more spear D decided to face this opponent head on he charged them and slashed. His blade shattered against the horned chest plate, D should have known better that spot looked way to armoured he should have at least used his mace.

Tantrum swung his axe for D’s head, he ducked and reached for his mace but the predicon elbowed him in the face knocking him to the ground. Tantrum raised the axe above his head ready to finish off D.

“You fought well.” Tantrum mumbled before he was engulfed in flame. Above them a flying seeker unleashed a torrent of fire from the skies laughing manically. The fire hurt but didn’t really harm either D or Tantrum, the later bot turned his attention to the aerial annoyance and chucked his second axe grounding the seeker. D used that as an opportunity to get up and put some distance between himself and the crimson brute who had clearly noticed but choose not to pursue. D regrouped with 22 and they made sure to stick together more closely. The next few hours of combat went very similarly to those first few brutal minutes. Somone challenges D and he would put them offline swiftly, 22 helped when he was needed but they both held their own solo.

D crashed his mace into the side of another bot knocking them to the ground where 22 finished them off by slamming the cobalt bot’s massive shield onto their head.

“Fuck.... fuck......FUCK YEAH!!!” 22 screamed covered in dents he didn’t have this morning and other bots energon. A feeling that almost resembled pride bubbled in D’s circuits. When he heard 22 speak at first, he was positive he would be the first to die and, in a way, he was right B0-22 was weak but over the duration of the fight he had been forged into something better, someone stronger. A soldier.

“I Can’t believe it folks were finally at the final FFFFFOUR Fighters!!!!” the moment sandstorm stopped speaking a blood curdling scream somehow even louder than the crowd rattled from across the arena. “Um It appears I spoke to soon” Sandstrom remarked the embarrassment in his voice was audible. D and his partner turned to face their final opponent. D knew who it would be before he even heard the scream.

On the other side of the arena Tantrum was wiping the energon off the blades of both the axes he had retrieved. What started as a respectful bow from one warrior to another lead into him transforming into his beast mode a colossal crimson bull. The armour plating which in robot mode was layered and impenetrable had become splayed out allowing for more mobility, while he would be faster in this form and almost certainly stronger, he was more vulnerable particularly his joints. This was good D turned to 22 to tell him the plan.

Tantrum began charging towards the pair reminding D of the orange bot he offlined earlier though thankfully tantrum didn’t move as blindingly fast as them. When Tantrum was halfway to them D gave the signal and 22 raced off like that orange bot his weapon had been incorporated into his vehicle mode, the shield became a battering ram attached to his front bumper. 22 droves in a purposely skittish manor creating as much dust as possible.

“Whoa!!! Looks like he should be called Sandstorm! Not me!” the ever-annoying commentator chuckled. Before he said that Tantrum looked like he would take the bait and follow 22 but now he was charging full steam a head straight for D.

Well, that was the entire plan out the airlock. D added Sandstorm to the long list of people he wanted to throw into a trash compactor. 22 noticed Tantrum and swerved charging his hide legs at full speed, this was successful by knocking Tantrum to his beastly knees, but it also dazed 22 resulting in him just sitting there motionless in vehicle mode. A sitting brick. Tantrum transformed back to robot mode slammed his two axes together to form a larger weapon and he readied to end the young bot's life.

“Halt! Face a real warrior!” D-16 screamed catching the Predicon’s attention by playing to his warrior heart. 22 regained composure and skuttled off.

“Before our wills clash. I desire to learn your name, noble warrior.” Tantrum announced ensuring the silent crowd heard him clearly.

“D....” He felt ashamed if he said his number here that would cement it forever whether he lived or died that would be how he was remembered he might as well call himself ‘Miner’. Then it dawned on him HE WAS WRONG. He didn’t need to earn a name, it was his Birthright. It was everyone's Birthright. Cybertron was Everyone’s Birthright. That mentality of ‘earning it’ was the mentality of his oppressors “He needed to earn his home. Earn his electricity. Earn the right to have his voice heard. Make quota, make quota, Make Quota” he was going to make his own quota. For the first time after being asked that question he considered his answer. He always thought he would have think about it but no. It came to him instantly. A name from Cybertronian legend, from history but more Importantly it came from his spark.

“I Am Megatron, and I refuse to die today, or tomorrow or any day between now and the day Cybertron is free from the parasites that have infected it for too long!” Megatron yelled finally verbally releasing the vitrail that he had been bottling up inside him for centuries.

“I am Tantrum, warrior sworn to the Prediking.” Tantrum responded he looked disappointed he assumed Megatron was referring to him, but nonetheless he gripped his axe as Megatron did the same with his mace. The two charged at each other, The predicon swung his massive weapon but Megatron ducked under using it as an opportunity make an ineffective strike at the larger bot's knee. Tantrum responded with a kick knocking the silver bot a few metres back. Megatron felt something inside him break. Once again Tantrum Raised his axe to execute his enemy to the crowd's delight. 22 rammed Tantrum again this time from the back, he dropped the axe Megatron rolled just in case it landed on him. Both Tantrum and 22 transformed at the same time, The red bull kicked 22 with his hind legs which 22 blocked with his oversized shield however the force still sent the light bot flying. Megatron guessed he would be down for the rest of the fight. Megatron picked up the axe but before he could act the bull charged him and pinned him against the colosseum wall. Something definitely broke the. Megatron’s empty weapon arm was free, but his jackhammer arm was pinned to his side. Megatron stared into the bull’s optics where he thought he would see animalistic rage he saw sympathy and regret. Megatron felt no such things towards his enemy.

“LOOKS LIKE THIS IS IT FOR OUR MINER FREIND!!! Despite his yelling Sandstrom couldn’t hide his disinterest in the fight. He expected this. He said it again ‘miner’ hearing it made Megatron angry, he turned that anger into fuel, He was filled with determination, with strength. Megatron used his free hand to push the beast off him just enough to free his other arm. Piloted by nothing but rage and survival instincts Megatron uppercuted the bull emphasising it with a trust from his jackhammer the devastating hit forced the bull up on his hind legs, he transformed again to avoid collapsing. Tantrum was stunned his eyes unfocused, his movements unsteady and energon spilled out of his mouth. The audience was astonished. Megatron knew this was the end. Megatron ran towards his opponent he used the horns on Tantrums chest head as leverage to get onto the bot's shoulders. They locked eyes for a moment.

“You fought well.” Megatron said before transforming, four clawed arms designed to support Megatron’s weight and allow him to mine from a cavern celling attached themselves to Tantrum’s face. The last thing Tantrum was the was Megatron’s alt mode of a stationary jackhammer. The chisel slammed into Tantrums face at blinding speed repeatedly, almost immediately he fell onto his back, but Megatron remained attached. Tantrum screamed for about a second until his voice box was destroyed, sparks flew then full metal scraps then energon, So much energon. Then sand. Megatron couldn’t hear anything but the ‘thump’ of the hammer he disassociated for a moment he thought he was back in the mines and in the mines, you didn’t stop mining until your shift was over. Shifts could last weeks. Megatron only de transformed when he felt when he felt B0-22 tap against his hide, he looked at what he had done. You couldn’t even tell what colour Tantrum was supposed to be the amount of energon spilled. D-16 didn’t feel anything when he killed the orange bot or the cobalt one or any of the others, but Megatron felt something now. He felt ashamed.

“Whoooooh BOY!!! That was Bru...... Brutal, do you have anything to say Megatron?” Sandstorm asked having landed beside the survivors holding out a microphone, the showmanship drained from his voice replaced with genuine shock.

“One Moment please.” Megatron responded wiping energon off his face and hands, he was stunned that was the first time someone referred to him by his name. He could hear the crowd they wanted to listen to him, for the first time people wanted to hear what he had to say, and it wasn’t through his poems it was through his voice. Sandstorm turned to B0-22.

“While .... uh .... While our victor collects himself let's hear from his teammate.... uh .... What was your name again kid?”

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhh...... B... B..... B.” 22 mumbled. He had caught a glance at Tantrum’s corpse and was frozen Sandstorm scoffed and turned to the crowd.

“Can I Get a Cheer for BARRICADE FOLKS!!! Real STRONG SILENT TYPE!!!” Sandstorm cheered. He was about to say something else, probably going to dismiss the crowd or promote the next fight when Megatron took the mic from him. “Heh!!” He protested. Megatron ignored him.

The crowd which only seconds ago was roaring for B0-22 or rather Barricade was now dead silent for Megatron.

“I am a Miner. Is anyone else a Miner here?” a surprisingly large portion of the crowd cheered. “Does anyone remember a time Before the mines?” Megatron spoke with passion, but the crowd fell silent again. “Of Course, not because we are forced into the mines the day we emerge from our beautiful planet! Tell me how many of our Brothers and Sisters die on their first shift? How many die before they see our galaxies' sun? How MANY DIE Before they get to drink a warm glass of low grad oil? HOW MANY DIE!!! Before they give themselves NAMES!!!” Megatron called out to the confused but engaged crowd of miners. He was angry he wanted to know how many of them were angry. “Tell me how many of you hate the mines?” There was a wave of ‘I dos’ from the crowd, they weren't loud enough for Megatron’s taste. “DO You Hate The Mines!?” a much louder more passionate ‘YES!’ was heard. That was better. “Do You Hate The System That Forces You Into Those Mines DO YOU HATE FUNCTIONISM!!!?” ‘YES!’ that made Megatron very happy. “Do you HATE the government that enforces that system, do you Hate the High Council!!!?” YES!’ YES!’ YES!’ they chanted.

“And tell me brothers and sisters do you HATE the Leader of that council, DO YOU HATE SENTINEL PRIME!!!!! BECAUSE I DO!!!” Megatron yelled. The crowd became dead silent before the chanting started again. They didn’t chant YES!’ this time they chanted his name

“MEG-A-TRON!” “MEG-A-TRON!” “MEG-A-TRON!” “MEG-A-TRON!” even Barricade chanted. They were chanting his name not his number, no ‘Miner’ no they chanted his name. His name is Megatron.

*No one can remember a time before we had to kill each other to live*

*Kill each other just to maintain a system nobody loves*

Chapter Text

Council meetings were a drag, that was the only thing all 12 council members agreed on, which isn’t something the governing body of a whole planet should be thinking. Noone believed that more than the head of the council and Cybertron’s commander in chief Sentinel Prime which is why Airachnid always stayed beside him to keep him focused as well as to protect him not that a Prime needed protection. Not only was she his bodyguard but also the head of the Iacon intelligence division through her network of spy drones, hidden cameras and informants she created a web of security around her Prime. She knew that with every would-be insurrectionist or revolutionary she silenced she made Cybertron stronger, she brought it one step closer to it’s second golden age, she was proud of her work. But recently something changed, now she had competition.

The council chamber was currently flooded with nothing but nonsensical petty bickering between senators Ratbat and Moonracer over the latter's new paint job. Airachnid looked towards Sentinel the blue and gold bot was still, despite his stern expression she knew he was amused he liked watching the other senator's squabble like protoforms so he wouldn’t step in any time soon, Airachnid would herself, but it was not her place to. The yelling was cut short when a heavy fist slammed onto the council table.

“ENOUGH! Can we please start the meeting proper. If we spend all session bickering, we will never get anything done!” Ultra Magnus shouted, he was the minister of planetary safety he kept law and order on Cybertron enforcing even laws he disagreed with as it was his duty. He annoyed Airachnid because of how simple he was, he held no notable secrets no skeletons in his closet that Sentinel didn’t know about nothing. He annoyed the other senators as well when he preached his belief in honour above all else. If he knew the things Airachnid knew he would probably try arrest the entire council himself.

“All right, all right, what is the first order of business for today.” Sentinel asked projecting authority and enthusiasm, but Airachnid knew he was disinterested he would rather be training or crusading across the stars, but such times had long passed. Despite his youthful demeanour Sentinel was old even buy Cybertronian standards the only council member older than him was minister of science Shockwave.

“I believe it is Ratbat’s purposed ‘Increased Authority regarding Mine Owners right to evict Unproductive workers from provided housing’ bill. I myself am unconvinced on the necessity of this bill.” Ultra Magnus read the bill so carefully it sounded as if it were the words of Primus himself.

“All-Spark save us! Do you need to say the entire name? Just call it the Productivity bill that's what I call it.” Ratbat responded in his shrill ugly voice provoking a dry but confrontational response from Magnus. As the arguing began again Airachnid tuned out, she hated listening to these senators, she hated them in general half of them were ambitionless, naive fools who were ignorant or worse compliant to the crimes of the other half who were all backstabbing, morally bankrupted social climbers. Almost every senator hired agents to spy on each other and gather blackmail. This is what politics on Cybertron has been for the last few millennia. However, they didn’t know most of their agents were also informants for Airachnid meaning the most valuable information was delivered to her and thus Sentinel before it reached anyone else. Airachnid knew more about these bots than they knew about themselves.

Sitting closest to Sentinel was Chromia the minister of planetary finance. She was good at her job not perfect but the value of the Cybertronian unit hadn’t decreased in 2,000 years so she must have been doing something right, she tended to partake in unsanctioned street races though she did a good job at keeping that information secret. Next was Hoist and Remix ministers of construction and distribution of truth (propaganda) respectfully, they were both complete doormats and folded with minimal pressure meaning they both only acted in what they believed were Sentinel’s interests.

Next was senator Moonracer the ambassador of Velocitron, Cybertron’s first colony. She had to express the opinions of her planets High Council, but she was very opinionated on almost every topic that was discussed in the chamber she always kept the population in mind. She was the only senator Sentinel disliked she talked back to him too often undermining his authority, which is why Airachnid leaked to the public information regarding her Red Energon addiction turning her into a public joke. The Prime hoped she would resign but she had stood firm and continued her work. Airachnid needed to start another scandal around the ambassador, but she couldn’t find anything. Was that why Sentinel found another spy, because she wasn’t good enough, she would prove herself she had already gathered so much new information on the other senators.

For example, through a disgruntled employee Airachnid had learned that the newest councillor Trax the minister of public opinion had used his status to give himself illegal military grade body modifications, she was excited to tell Sentinel, he could either lever that info against Trax and turn him into another stooge or expel him from the council outright that was sure to please him. Though maybe not Trax was only the minister of public opinion the singular revolving position on the council every thousand years the population voted for a new bot to fill that position most of the time installing popular figures to the role in Trax’s case a respected comedian. Even Airachnid had to admit he was a charming bot to be around, but he knew to stay professional during meetings.

Directly across from her and Sentinel sat Shockwave something about the hulking bot forced her to pay attention she didn’t think about the secrets she knew or the scandals she thought about him. Maybe it was his intimidating stature maybe it was his emotionless yellow eye that always felt like it was staring directly at you or maybe it was the fact he was aware of the cameras Airachnid placed in his lab but did nothing about them. She had seen the crimes against the All-spark he committed regularly in that citadel, and they disturbed her a seasoned criminal turned spy, when she first discovered Shockwave’s genetic experiments on citizens reported missing, she immediately went to Sentinel all he said was.

“Senator Shockwave is very close to rediscovering Space Bridge technology, the key to returning cybertron to its former glory. If he wishes to create monsters in his spare time that is not my concern.” he knew before she had even told him maybe that's why Shockwave didn’t touch the cameras, because she couldn’t touch him.

 

Airachnid was so busy spinning information in her head that she didn’t notice the council voting on the bill. Six in favour (Ratbat , Tidalwave, Cyclonus , Hoist, Trax and Remix) Four against (Moonracer, Chromia, Magnus and Scorn) two abstains (Sentinel and Shockwave) the bill was passed and would be put into effect as soon as possible.

“I love democracy.” Ratbat snorted rubbing it in Moonracer’s face with a big ugly grin across his own. Airachnid paid them no mind she was still going through the council recalling every bit of information like she had done millions of times before.

After Shockwave was Cyclonus master of planetary defence and former Seeker air commander the old bot had severed in the name of Primus since the first Quinitson war and almost single handedly won the second meaning he was very respected by the other senators, he was very inconsistent on his policy he abstained even on the most important of bills but would become so passionate on the most random of proposals. Airachnid suspected his processor was deteriorating. Since the minister of history Alpha Trion wasn’t present next was Tidalwave, ambassador to Gigantion the only other colony planet Cybertron still had contact with. He was significantly less intrusive than Moonracer as he was in Ratbat’s pocket so didn’t really play apart in most meetings voting however his master wished.

Of course, Ratbat sat beside his favourite employee he had a little shit eating grin across his face plate giddy about introducing a planet changing law like it was a new toy. Ratbat was minister of energy distribution, he used to manage an energon refinery in Tarn and due to his proficiency at micromanaging that refinery became the most productive business on Cybertron which got him quickly promoted to regional manager and then onto the city council until he was the first Minicon elected to the high council in Cybertronian history. Ratbat claims he can find a way to perfectly distribute energy across the planet and Airachnid believed him, but he didn’t instead he siphons energon supplies away from the worker cities redirecting it to the capital Iacon ensuring the city could stay golden and glistening. Ratbat became senator thanks to an almost unanimous vote from his fellow Minicons hoping for someone to final change things for them. Two days after becoming a senator that refinery he ran so long ago was shut down, bulldozed and turned into a museum. Ratbat hadn’t set foot in Tarn in over 400 years, the people of that city would tear him to scraps if they got the chance unfortunately, he employed the best mercenaries on cybertron as his private militia.

“Hey, Chromia when this meeting is finished do you want to get a drink?” Ratbat shouted across the table at the bot three times his height. Chromia looked the pink minicon up and down before silently writing a note and passing it to Sentinel, Airachnid did not see the note but knew by the prime’s quite chuckle it was something juvenile or violent. “I’ll get her one of these days, eh Tidal.” the minicon nudged the ambassador. Tidalwave was big compared to most bots but beside the minicon the size difference was comical. The pairs chuckling was cut off by Magnus again reading out the results of a public survey on weather resources allocated to the military should be redistributed towards public needs. A vote was very quickly cast. Five against (Ratbat, Tidalwave, Remix, Hoist and Scorn) Four in favour (Moonracer , Chromia, Magnus and Trax) Three abstains (Sentinel, Shockwave and Cyclonus ) the meeting carried on like that for a while Magnus reading out topics and the council casting votes with minimal discussion or input. Airachnid tried to pay attention to maintain focus, part of her job was to act as a live recorder of what occurred during a council meeting for Sentinels future reference, but something was distracting her now. She heard one of them, one of HIS little bugs.

It was distinct a tiny little almost unnoticeable beep signifying the activation of a hidden audio receptor, one of HIS. Airachnid didn’t know when or how Sentinel came into contact with another spy but since then he had been consulting this agent increasingly more often. Somehow this civilian agent was accruing information and providing it to Sentinel before it reached her through her network, it wasn’t just minor things either this agent had warned Sentinel about an assassination attempt at a public appearance months prior which led to the squashing of an entire insurrection movement as well as exposing several traitorous members of the Cybertronian elite guard. The fact she was so blind must have only reaffirmed to her Prime that he needed another spy, reaffirmed that she was sloppy. She would prove herself. He would be impressed by what she found on Trax. He would trust her again. That dam receptor was somewhere but she couldn’t find even with her many enhanced optics, it wasn’t on the roof it wasn’t in the walls, and it wasn’t attached to any of the senator's bodies. Last time she heard it she caused a scene by ordering silence mid debate between Sentinel and Shockwave, she crawled onto the celling and clawed the bug out of a vent. Sentinel ordered everyone out before reprimanding her. He didn’t get angry often but that day he was furious she made him look like a fool. The senators still talk about it when they think they're alone mocking her, they think she is a crazy zealot, but she knows her devotion to her Prime is her only redeeming quality. The fact HE could even place a bug in the council chamber without her knowing was impressive, why did Sentinel even allow this he knew she already had cameras in the chamber to catch any private conversations between senators. Sentinel must have been asking himself who is more valuable someone who can see everything or someone who can hear everything.

Airachnid’s focus was drawn away from her own inferiority complex by a loud fake cough from senator Scorn who sat in between Magnus and Ratbat. The skeletal gold and silver bot was an old friend of the spy master from her criminal past, back then he ran Iacon’s biggest black market and a robust mercenary network. If you wanted something done or some bot scraped, you went to Scorn ad he would establish an open bounty. Airachnid had a talent for that line of work as well as a profitable niche in the market being able to follow fleeing bounties into places like the mines or factor vents, she also earned extra cash by harvesting the organs of her victims and selling them to Scorn for resale. Back then bots paid good money for a replacement T-cog.

When Sentinel ascended to Prime, he wanted his council to be more secure than his predecessors which suffered from frequent assassinations and attempted coupes, so he approached Scorn and installed him into the new position Lord of Planetary Strength former mercenaries were turned into government enforcers, riot breakers and security personal very soon after gaining power he recommended Airachnid to Sentinel and the rest was history . Scorn was also in charge of organising specialized military unites for extreme combat scenarios; his pride and joy was the Lighting Strike Coalition a six-man team of some of the strongest and most skilled bots on the planet, they defended the military base Fortress Maximus during one of the two ground battles in the second Quinitson war. Now in council meetings he was the only person who even acknowledged her existence sometimes he paid more attention to her than the meeting. Once Scorn knew he had her attention he pointed down, Airachnid reached one of her spider limbs under the council table and with a camera at its end she saw IT the bug under the table. The most obvious spot and she missed it.

“Well, it seems we only have one thing left to address ‘Ahem’ Senator Shockwave would you like to speak for a moment?” Ultra Magnus announced.

“Thank you, Magnus.” Shockwave responded “It is with great sorrow I am here to announce my retirement from my position on this council as Minister of Scientific Advancements, I have been considering this decision for some time now as I feel my political duties have gotten in the way of my research, so I belief this is the most logical course of action.” His singular yellow eye expressed even less emotion than his voice. None of the other senators reacted, they weren’t surprised Shockwave hadn’t exactly kept his frustrations secret.

“So sad, you will be missed so on so forth, anyway we have to vote on a replacement right. I nominate the head of Crystal Citys development umm mm what’s his face Perceiver.” Ratbat called out dismissing Shockwave.

“Preceptor.” Scorn corrected his voice cold yet articulate like usual.

“Ah Preceptor thanks Scorny.” the minicon responded

“Personally, I think that Wheeljack would be more suited to the role.” Magnus said.

“That mouthless mech!? Anything he invents ends up blowing up in his faceplate. I’d sooner trust that Scraplet with my spark than I would Wheeljack with a budget!” Chromia interjected gesturing boisterously at Ratbat.

“Oh senator you wound me, what would the public think if they knew you used such outdated language.” The minicon responded in a sheepish tone putting his hand to his chest faking offense at her comment. The blue bot flinched realising how loose she was with her words and groaned leaning back into her chair. Just another bit of blackmail for Ratbat’s collection.

“Hold on I think Wheeljack and Preceptor both have......”

“Before senator Trax says something illogical, I would like to express my own suggestion for my replacement.” Shockwave usually didn’t interrupt others, but Trax was an exception. He really didn’t like Trax. “I suggest an independent scientist from tarn Tarantulas his work on bio-mechanical augmentation is truly groundbreaking.”

“Let's not get hasty everyone of course the public vote is still the most important factor.” Moonracer interjected promoting an uproar of laughter from other council members. Even Airachnid could barely hide a chuckle. After a few minutes of that Sentinel interjected

“Okay, okay, hehehe Moonracer is right Hehe the public vote is...... pffffttttt , the most important.” Sentinel stated his face going red from holding in his mockery. Moonracer was not pleased. After debating it for a while longer the council decided to rest the topic until next meeting. All the senators stood and dispersed quietly apart from Ratbat who attempted to indicate small talk with Chromia who would have punted him out the window if it weren't for Tidalwave slowly following behind. Moonracer and Magnus shook Shockwave’s hand thanked him for his service and left the council chamber together. Scorn approached Airachnid and whispered in her ear.

“I’m doing my best at finding your mystery rival but no dice, I’d start calling in some favours if I were you." The skeletal bot then turned to Sentinel “My king.” this wasn’t one of the Primes titles, but Scorn used it anyway to butter him up. Sentinel never noticed the distain in the his. The last of the Council members to leave was Cyclonus who gave a deep respectful bow and vanished in a blinding flash of purple light, teleporting back to Trypticon station. Airachnid sat down on the council table and relaxed slightly but kept a professional posture. Usually after council meetings she would give her Prime a brief summary of the discussion, this was her favourite part of her day mostly just because it meant she could spend time with him.

From her perspective he was perfect, During Cybertron’s golden age he was a Knight of Primus he would lead crusades across the galaxy conquer empires, destroy their enemies and begin the process to cyberformform disgusting imperfect organic worlds into beautiful mechanical colonies. Velocitron , Gigantion and so many other planets have been partially or entirely blessed by the Grace of Primus. Airachnid wished she could have partaken in such crusades. Sentinel was so proficient in his assignment he was called back to Cybertron by his predecessor Zeta Prime and anointed his personal bodyguard. Cybertron was prospering it was strong, then the Cosmic Rust plague came. Space bridge technology was once what brought Cybertron to the forefront of galactic attention then suddenly it nearly killed the entire empire, the rust flowed from planet-to-planet trough the bridges. Hundreds of colonies lost billions dead Zeta made the hard decision to destroy the Space Bridge network with the power of the Matrix before the plague reached Cybertron. The technology was lost in the process cutting them off from all but their closest Colonies. Not long after Zeta Prime vanished into the stars leaving the planet leaderless until Sentinel was chosen by the Matrix of Leadership, by Primus the God of light to be Prime. Sentinel was the first Divinely appointed prime since the planets lost histories.

Sentinel was ecstatic ready to lead Cybertron back to full strength, wage war across the cosmos and plant his names in the history books, have songs written about his conquests and statues erected in his image. But no such times had long passed. As prime his role was not that of a supreme leader like he believed it would be but instead a mediator and a public voice of the council he couldn’t even cast a vote unless it was to break a tie or was regarding military action. In times of war the prime was granted emergency supreme authority, but Cybertron had not known long term warfare in eons. These were limitations set by the firsts primes to prevent their successors from abusing power. Sentinel sighed before mumbling to himself.

“If that purple cyclops thinks retiring means he won’t have to finish his work I swear to the All Spark I'll....” his words became unintelligible.

“Would you like a summary of today's meeting sir.” Airachnid’s question brought Sentinel out of his own head.

“Oh no that will no longer be necessary.” he replied reaching under the table and removed the bug. “I placed this so that I can listen back on the meetings while I train or while I fly, means you don’t have to waste your time on it and can spend more time keeping Cybertron strong.” he rolled the device smiling at it, Airachnid stared at it transfixed like it was the All spark itself she was relieved that HE didn’t have listening device in the chamber , concerned that her prime never told her this and confused if it wasn’t a bug why did it randomly beep? Sentinel looked up at her and back to the device. His smile disappeared. “Is this what you have been freaking out about all meeting?” he asked staring straight into her eyes.

“Um.... what...?” his question stunned her. Her confusion angered him he clenched his fist and gritted his teeth. “I thought it was a listening device.” she said franticly her concern over it must have been more obvious than she thought. Of course it was how else would Scorn have noticed, did the other senators notice, was Ratbat snickering about it right now?

“Are you Jealous, Airachnid?” he stood up towering over her when she was sitting down like this. When she took too long to respond he repeated himself “Are you JEALOUS, Airachnid?!” Sentinel Prime did not like repeating himself

“No sir, never sir. I am your hand I am your eyes and ears I am your shield. I have no reason to jealous of anyone. She chanted bowing to the prime. Her words sounded like false pleas, but they were her honest beliefs. She had angered him, and it was all her fault for questioning him even if it wasn’t verbally. All over her petty fear of HIM whoever HE was.

“Good.” Sentinel’s smug smile returned appreciating his own authority. “Jealousy is for protoforms. I am running an empire here I cannot afford my spy master to be acting like a protoform.” He was still smiling but his threatening tone had not ceased. “Anyway, I have an event tonight, so I need to get my paintjob redone and I don’t want to keep them waiting.” He chuckled to himself satisfied with putting her in her place.

As he turned and strides towards the door, he turned back to Airachnid. “Oh, by the way I have been informed that Senator Trax has possibly purchased illegal body modifications, including weaponry and flight thrusters. So yeah, get someone to verify that and then let him know I know about it.” Sentinel explained with little interest before finally leaving the Council Chambers

That was devastating to Arachnid, hear she thought that information would help her earn the primes trust again but apparently not only did that WRECHED INTERLOPER already inform Sentinel, but HE also had specifics she didn’t. She wanted to rip something apart she too much self-control to attack a chair, so she saved her energy se would save it for HIM, and when she tears HIM apart wherever HE is Sentinel will have to trust her again she would prove herself. But such times had long passed.

Chapter Text

*No one can remember a time before we had to kill each other to live*

*Kill each other just to maintain a system nobody loves*

*Who will save what’s left of us .........

Megatron sat on the table pondering, well many things, the new violent world he had thrown himself headfirst into, about the bots he just killed and about himself as well as his new name. While Megatron disassociated the on-site medic did his work, Megatron was covered in so much energon the medic had to clean his plating before he could even start analysing the stationary champion. Megatron thought about his prize there was no fan fair he just found 200 units in the box with his data pad. He was promised 400 but since both him and Barricade survived the prize money had to be split between the pair of them. 200 units would pay for half a months' worth of electricity. Megatron was ready to head straight home when he was told to head to the med bay, he was very surprised when he was told it would be at no extra cost.

“Ahem, I’m done cleaning your plating.” the medic coughed wiping his hands with a dirty rag. That was the first time he had spoken since Megatron had come in though Megatron hadn’t said a word at all so that was fair. The medic was old, everything about him told that story his poor posture, his grouchy deminer and his scratchy voice. Despite the dents and the rusty joints his paint job was clean. A bright red with white accents which made his profession clear. At the top of his head was a crimson crest, U shaped one side bent ever so slightly, in his mouth hung a thin metal rod a tool of some sort it meant he mumbled slightly when he spoke.

“Thank you.” Megatron sighed.

“Don’t thank me now I haven’t done my job yet.” The grouchy bot replied. “Where you hurt’in.” he asked.

“Something in my torso broke when I was rammed into the wall.” Megatron replied wincing at the pain. The old bot nodded reached behind him to grab some tools of a table and signalled for Megatron to open his chest cavity. Megatron attempted to comply but groaned in agony his chest panel had been damaged and now refused to open like a broken elevator.

“Don’t try to force it lad you’ll end up mak’in it worse.” the medic popped the tool out of his mouth placed it into a gap between Megatron’s plating and used it to pry the metal open. The piece disconnected with a click and swung open followed by the other pieces of Megatron's frontal armour exposing his internal motors and wires. The medic swiftly found the piece of bent metal and readjusted it. “I’d say it got warped by the flamethrowers, try it again.” he stood back hands on his hips proud to be of service. Megatron did as he was instructed and closed his chest again before reopening it without incident. “That wasn’t what was hurt’in was it?” he asked putting the tool back in his mouth, Megatron shook his head. The medic tapped his crest, and the metal began glowing red before he began inspecting Megatron’s internals.

Megatron felt uncomfortable putting himself in such a vulnerable position but even his pride wouldn’t let him deny free medical attention lest he keel over on his way home, so he just began thinking while the medic investigated his components Megatron still felt giddy about the crowd's cheers. Cheers for him for his words, the appreciation for this almost eclipsed his sorrow at ending other bot's lives, he would call the feeling guilt or remorse, but Megatron felt disappointment was a better descriptor what he was disappointed in he was unsure.

“Megatron, that’s a unique one.” The old bot spoke out while he examined Megatron “Your contract is signed with a number, you change your name mid fight.” he asked with no effect on his work. Megatron was stunned he liked his name so much he forgot it was even new. “You know what that name means right?” the medic continued.

“Yes.” Megatron responded “Megatronus Prime was the second youngest of the 13, the greatest warrior among them, legends say Primus gifted him a great cannon that he used to injure the Chaos Bringer.” The old bot ceased his work for a moment after Megatron said that name before continuing “After their victory the well of all sparks opened on the surface the other twelve decided to found a city around it which became Iacon, valuing solitude Megatronus founded his own city and named it after the sound his canon made Kaon. Or that’s how the legends go, in truth I don’t believe the 13 primes or the chaos bringer existed.”

“So, you took his name for the strength it evokes. The power?” the old bot asked curious in his young patients thought process.

“Not that but of course most would interpret that way, what I admire about his character is his independence, if he believed his siblings were wrong, he would let them know it even if he was outvoted 12-1. He knew in his spark when he was right and would act on it.”

“Of course, that independence and impulsiveness is what lead to him kill’in two of his siblings resulting in a thousand-year war between our first cities ending with e’m dead and brandished as the Fallen. Well, that’s how the legends go.” The medic explained.

“The name is invocative it tells people I don’t care what they think of me, and it tells them I’m not a fan of how Cybertron is run.” Megatron rolled his shoulder as it was tensing up.

“I think your speech said that well enough.” the medic responded. Megatron felt relieved after his speech to the crowd finally being able to express his feelings in a way that mattered but he knew he had so much more he needed to say and he knew if he continued expressing them so blatantly one of the council’s enforcers would be knocking on his door soon. “My name’s Ratchet by the way, the medic spoke again. Before Megatron could respond he felt a sudden searing pain inside he would yell but bit his lip instead but flinched either way. “Ah scrap, my bad should 'a warn you before I put that bent piston back in its place.” Ratchet apologised as he backed out of Megatron’s chest. After the shock faded the silver bot realised the consistent pain he was feeling had ceased. He stood up ready to leave before Ratchet interrupted him.

“Hold on Hold on, I’m giving you a full tune up not just fixing the damage you got today.” Megatron sat back down, and Ratchet resumed his work.

“Why do you do all this for free, I'm sure the company is willing to pay.” Megatron asked genuinely confused why someone would be so kind.

“I don’t need the money, got a full military pension.” Ratchet responded beginning to examine his patient again. He placed his hand on Megatron’s spark chamber at the left-hand side of his chest. “Your sparks off centre, that will save your life at some point. Bots will aim for the centre.” There were a few minutes of silence before Ratchet spoke again. “You know I agree with what you said up there, it’s not fair that people like you are stuck risk ’in your lives in the mines while people like me just get cushy jobs just because I was forged to turn into a truck and not a, a , a shovel!” Ratchet spoke with genuine anger about the concept. Megatron chose not to respond he had never met a higher-class bot express frustration about the cast system, he knew they must have existed, but it comforted him still to speak with one. “Now I’m old.” Megatron chuckled at Ratchet. “What’s funny?” He asked

“Respectfully doctor I don’t think that needed to be said.” Megatron mocked the grouchy bot against his better judgement. Ratchet took it in stride and chuckled back.

“I wouldn’t tease the bot fiddling with your organs one wrong snip and you’d go offline and no one would suspect this geezer.” Ratchet’s hand transformed into a pair of blades which sniped like scissors, he then returned to his tale more cheerful this time. “You see I was forged at the dawn of Zeta primes rule.”

“Fuck you are old!” Megatron gasped before apologizing. Ratchet rolled his optics and continued.

“You see back then not every fountain of life had a city built on top of it, you’d have bots birthed from the planet’s crust out in the wasteland or Primus forbid the sea of rust. Most of these lesser wells had communities pop up around them, warrior clans and the sort. Not me though I crawled out of a nasty tight crevice where Helex now roots itself.

“The factory city.” Megatron mumbled.

“I wandered the wasteland outside Iacon for a long time not knowing nothing but the drive in my spark to survive, learned to fend off the ugliest of beasts out there. It was three mega cycles I bet before I saw another bot and it wasn’t an hour later, I watched him die, I promised I wouldn't let it happ’in again, through lots of practice trial and error I learned how to fix others, save them. All the while our three oldest cities got bigger and brighter till they were visible on the horizon no matter how far they were. I suppose I just stumbled in at some point was put to work as a doctor. Later when the prime declared war on the outsiders I was once a part of, became field medic, saved so many killed so many others. Clan Vos, Clan Tarn, Galvatron ,even Trypticon they all fell to The Prime. Then through our ‘Golden Age’...” Ratchet stopped his story to scoff. “Why do they call it that, I lived through it was no different than things now except Iacon looked uglier and you couldn’t go a day without hearing about some great battle fought on a planet I’ll never visit by knights I’ll never meet.” Ratchet paused for a moment removed something from Megatron’s chest that shouldn’t have been there and continued “Anyway throughout the rest of Zeta Prime’s reign I served as a senior medic at various places Metroplex, Fortress Maximus, Trypticon Station......” Ratchet froze a look of trauma and horror in his optics. Megatron wanted to inquire about the veteran's war stories after all you don’t meet someone who fought in the Cybertronian civil wars often. But he didn’t want to draw up anything negative for the old mech.

“How did someone with such an impressive carrier end up here.” He asked instead equally curious. Ratchet groaned not liking that praising, he was standing again facing away from Megatron examining screens that showed results from scans that he did from inside the gladiator's chest.

“Well, you see since Sentinel Prime came to power there hasn’t been much war has there? And no matter what my buddy Ironhide says Insectacon purges don’t count as wars. I just thought I was needed elsewhere than stuffy garrisons and space stations, so I came back down saw the problems, Red energon Addictions it’s a big problem not a load of people talk about, so I set up a clinic in the Iacon depths. Helped so many became a local celebrity in a way.... I Don’t like the attention.” he sighed leaning over a desk “When that place got big enough, I handed the reigns over to someone I trust and moved onto Tarn. The poor bots there, their starving all because that senator, Ratbat hates his own city I’d wager he’s the kind of mech that hates to be reminded of where he came from, I’ve met too many bots like that.”

That made Megatron think if he realised his dream to become a famous poet how easily could he forget where he came from, ignore his past. He would keep that in mind.

“I tried to help those pore communities, but Tarn is infested with gangsters, smugglers and all sorts of unlikeable characters. Which meant I really couldn’t do much real work without some young son of a glitch with a sword knocking at my door.” Ratchet faced Megatron again but looked at the floor pondering something. “When these pits started getting popular here in Kaon there were no onsite medics, which meant even the winners bled out before leaving the arena, so I volunteered to tend to you gladiators. You were lucky by the way most don’t come out of their first fight looking half as shiny as you.” Ratchet said with concern and appreciation in his voice.

“I suppose so, though I did have help.” Megatron retorted.

“Forgot about that little helper you had. If I was him, I’d stay away from this scene I don’t know if he has the spark for a win on his own.” Ratchet shook his head dismissing a grim thought. Despite not voicing it Megatron knew what Ratchet was thinking and he agreed. Barricade was fast, skilled and took orders well, but he wasn’t a survivor like himself, though he was wrong about the young bot before Megatron reminded himself. “You however, you’ll go far. You got that look in your optics the same look I saw in the bots I met in the wasteland. That look that says, ‘I won’t die today’. The Medics words resonated with the younger bot.

Ratchet looked at the floor for a moment before jolting up. “By the All-Spark how long have I been babbling about the past, that’s a lesson there lad don’t let an old mech like me start yacking because you won’t ever hear the end of it.” Ratchet rambled; he sounded ashamed as if he was wasting Megatron's time.

“It’s quite alright I like learning about history.” Megatron responded beginning rolling his shoulder again as it was really aching now.

“He he , if you like history I have a friend in the archives who can ho.....” Ratchet was interrupted by an audible ‘clank’ made by Megatron's shoulder. “Primus that didn’t sound good, didn’t sound good at all. Let me take a look at that joint.” He approached the gladiator again readying his tools again. Megatron stood up holding out his hands.

“It’s quite alright I have wasted enough of your time doctor, and I do have somewhere to be. Thank you for your help doctor.” Megatron lied as he was confident, he could fix the issue himself when he got home.

“You don’t got nothing, so sit your hide down while I do my job.” Ratchet protested calling his bluff. Megatron did as instructed and allowed Ratchet to remove his pauldron and begin tending to the wires of the joint. “Hmmm, ‘tch, tch’ that’s not good at all, I will have to stay focused on this, so I’ll have to keep my mouth shut. So, you want me to turn on some broadcast to keep you distracted.” Ratchet asked, Megatron did not respond but Ratchet pressed a button on his wrist anyway prompting the screens behind him to switch from medical info to a talk show.

A short, rounded yellow bot sat behind a furnished table on a well-kept set ,behind them was a maze of beautiful stars though Megatron was unsure if it was a screen or the real thing, a lot of broadcasts were filmed on orbital stations for easier planet wide transmission but he wasn’t familiar with this show. Ratchet appeared to have caught the show right after it started, he must watch this show himself.

“Howdy folks, welcome back to ‘On the right Trax’ Cybertron’s favourite talk show. I'm your host Bumper and tonight we have a special guest but first a word from our generous benefactors at Clench’s Combat Corp.” Megatron tuned out as an add played for the very building he sat in. Bumper seemed polite, an entertaining presenter if a little camera shy. Megatron did recognise the show after all he just didn’t recognise the host, the old face the one the show was named after was a senator now, so it made sense, they found a new one. Megatron turned to Ratchet who was hard at work strengthening the wires in his shoulder, so he wasn't lying when he said he’d keep his mouth shut. Megatron was beginning to ponder and plan out rhymes and stanzas for poems he will never write as he was prone to do when left to his own devices.

 

“Wooooo, !!!!” The live studios cheers were aggravating, tearing Megatron away from his mental bliss. He looked back towards the screen, Bumper was now clapping as their guest sat down on the couch beside their desk, he quickly made himself comfortable crossed his legs stretched his arms across the rim of the seat all while soaking in the crowd's praises. Megatron recognised him all too well, any bot raised in the city states would too. His red, blue and grey visage plastered on every piece of military propaganda possible everyone knew Starscream. Bumper signalled for the audience to quiet down before they addressed their grinning guest.

“Good evening, commander how...”

“Supreme air Commander.” Starscream corrected his voice ever scratchy and annoying. Megatron heard Ratchet groan sharing Megatron’s ire. Bumper chuckled uncomfortable shooting quick glances between the camera and their guest

“Oh apologies, Supreme air commander Starscream how are you doing this evening.”

“Quite tired, we bombed an Insectacon hive earlier and dealt with a ship leaving the planet unauthorised so me and my men have been very busy.” Starscream rolled his hand in the air implying a dullness to what he described while the smirk on his face plate showed that he knew all who listened would be impressed the audience sure was. Megatron was just in a televised death match he now knew what a real engaged crowd sounded like; he wagered this pampered military wreck wouldn’t last very long in these pits. Why did Megatron already feel so prideful about this place after a single bought a question he would ponder later perhaps something to write about after the other 300 ideas for poems he had.

“Woah that’s quite impressive.” the show carried on like that for a while with the seeker describing his exploits and Bumper pretending to be impressed. Megatron did not intend to watch very long but Ratchet showed no signs of ceasing his work any time soon. “Wow I would not have the guts for a purge like that, I think I'd need an oil change before I even got off the shuttle.” Bumper said after Starscream spoke for a long period the audience laughed at the yellow bots self-deprecating joke but both Starscream and Megatron cringed the former faked a chuckle none the less. “Now I think everybody loves listening to your stories Starscream. Is there perhaps a place our viewers, and listeners can hear more about your extensive career.” The jolly yellow bot asked, clearly a pre-planned question considering Starscream’s response.

“Funny that you would ask that Bumper I’m beginning to work on a novel of sorts.” He paused anticipating a reaction from the crowd. “A biography you could say, one that will detail my carrier from my forging at the dawn of our current age, to my promotion to Seeker air commander after my service in the second Quintison war chronicling events all the way till today. By the Allspark maybe I’ll write a chapter about this interview.” Starscream and Bumper both chuckled.

“Second Quintison war....... single dam...... sta.... siege ...two ground battl...By the Matrix it’s a dishonour to our forbearers who fought in the real war...” Ratchet mumbled between grunts and work. That made Megatron think, wars were long especially on Cybertron , the first Quintison war lasted centuries the second barley eight hours not even a full cycle. The Insectacon purge Starscream just described lasted longer than that event. Yet every broadcast, every history book and every public figure called it a war or described it like it was a narrowly avoided apocalypse. Megatron lived through it and it was no doomsday, deep in the bowls of the planet he heard no bombs, felt no tremors, saw no war. He only learned of the failed invasion by Cybertron’s former overlords weeks later at the end of his shift. Since then, the council choose to reestablish Cybertron’s naval might and to constantly redistribute necessary energon from civilian centres to military assets like the ones Ratchet once served at . As well as specialised fortifications like Shockwave’s citadel or The Under Base a state-of-the-art floating fortress constructed at Starscream’s request immediately after the battle. Kaon was hit hard but Megatron couldn’t imagine how bad it was in Tarn the city’s population were starving, and the city itself was sinking into the ground. The council justified this by propagating the idea that the Quintisons could return at any time, most didn’t take to this as they were dispatched with relative ease. The fact that recently a new city made entirely out of crystal was built in proximity to Iacon, with full power exclusively as a vanity project for Senator Hoist was the nail in the coffin for that lie. Megatron always felt good when he poked a hole in the council’s propaganda.

“And you're writing it yourself? That's quite unusual considering that is not your function, was there some paperwork involved there?” Bumper asked enthused. The seeker’s optics darted back and forth nervously, he thought no one would notice. But Megatron did.

“Yes of course I’m writing it myself, no bot I could accurately detail the events of my own life, even if I described in vivid detail every thought of every moment of my life to the best novelist our civilization has to offer, it would not be a very authentic to the real events.” Starscream’s ugly smirk had dropped ever so slightly. “Oh, and yes usually to make such a piece a Cybertronian of my status would have submit a request that must be approved by at least one council member and Sentinel Prime himself was happy to provide me such, frankly I think the whole thing is unnecessarily .... official though I suppose that’s a rant better saved for the book.” the seeker teased ,animosity hidden behind a coy smile.

Did Megatron hear that right, Starscream thought he was being cute, but the gladiator knew what he meant; that was a strike at functionism what else could it be. Did even those who benefited most from that vile framework have issues with it. Was it possible even a council member thought that, was it possible a council member would side with him?

Starscream continued speaking for some time before Bumper received a message on some sort of com device.

 

“Apologies to interrupt you Supreme Air Commander but...”

“I was talking Bumper, please don’t interrupt me again.”

“Again I'm sorry but this is quite pressing...”

“NO , I will not be Disrespected by some yellow little....” The crew cute Starscream’s mic before he could rattle off every insult he knew. Bumper turned to address the audience directly.

“Ahem, Breaking news it appears a riot has broken out on the surface of eastern Kaon.” Bumper explained in shock. Ratchet ceased his work and Megatron shot up in his seat. They were bellow the surface level in that very sector.

“Dang.” Ratchet muttered

“The rioters have been observed to consist mostly of lower-class labourers and are reported to be antagonizing officers and vandalising property.” As Bumper spoke supporting images appeared on screen . The rioters they looked like Miners.

The gears were turning in Megatron’s head, putting pieces together but Ratchet was ironically faster.

“You’ve done it now lad.” he gasped. It couldn’t be. Had Megatron’s words really resonated with the crowd enough to spur them into such action. Maybe he was a better speaker than he gave himself credit for. There was a moment of silence both in the room and on the screen , broken when without prompt Ratchet pressed the button on his wrist again, bringing the screen back to the medical info , a few more inputs and it changed to a document, a contract Megatron’s contract the one that he signed and dismissed the company of any fault. Ratchet manually erased the number ‘D-16’ from the bottom of the contract and retyped the name ‘Megatron’ before closing it. The gladiator looked at the old mech jaw agape, he went to speak but Ratchet shook his head and returned to his shoulder.

Starscream and Bumper began watching live footage of the riot the later was mortified while the former was apathetic, perhaps he wished he was still talking. After some time, the footage showed a security officer approach a group of miners ordering them to cease. After a few minutes of shouting the officer took out his stun weapon, before he could use it an extremely large bot (about twice Megatron’s height) came in from off camera tackling the officer at surprising speed. The group of young miners viciously attacked the grounded officer. Bumper looked away in disgust, Ratchet choose not to look and his hands remained at work, Megatron did not flinch either he thought the officer deserved it , Starscream covered his mouth with his hand at first it seemed to be in shock in truth he was hiding a smile .Starscream knew what happened next.

More time passed , the crowd grew larger, the officers blood spread away from his now colourless hide. An object crashed into the ground faster than most optics could track, in the middle of the crowd now stood a tall, spindly blue bot. His legs were thin and curved backwards like a bird, helicopter blades spun at his back, most would be drawn to his strange camera-like head it’s only feature being a single large yellow eye a sign he was subjected to Empurata the Cybertonian version of a lobotomy. But Megatron was drawn to the crest on his shoulder, a stern crested face framed by wings at both sides, had it been blue it would signify a member of the high guard mere defenders of the council, but no the symbol was black and highlighted in white. The symbol of Sentinel Prime’s enforcers if the high guard were his shields the enforcers were the executioner’s sword Megatron knew why starscream smiled now, that sick son of a glitch wanted to see the rioters die. The blue bot’s clawed hands transformed into a pair of plus shaped cannons while two larger anti air guns emerged from his chest before yelling out in an almost undecipherable manic cry.

"WHOOOO BOY!!!! I Recommend you folks head on home. Ha ha ha , or I'm gonna have to introduce you to my little friends!!!” the camera which Megatron realised must have been held by one of the rioters panned away from the blue enforcer to another one who was now approaching.

“They arrived quickly.” Megatron thought. “It must have been true that Airachnid saw everything.”

The second enforcer was larger, bulky and his plating was an intimidating velvet colour. Protruding from his chest plate was a massive rail gun , by the look of the cannon Megatron guessed it was designed to punch holes in starships not unarmed civilians.

“YA’LL BETTER LISTEN TO MY BLUE FLYING FREIND BECAUSE THIS HERE CANNON, HERE IS LOCKED, LOADED AND READY TO. KAAAABLAM!!!” The red bot called out. Megatron didn’t catch who shot first but within seconds the scene erupted into violence, both enforcers mowed down armed and unarmed rioters alike all while not taking any damage themselves. They were using non-lethal stun rounds at the very least. The footage cut not long after the chaos started and Bumper ended the show early. Ratchet and Megatron sat there in silence for some time after that, the old bot kept working on the shoulder not because he needed to, he had already fixed it but instead to keep his now shaky hands busy. Megatron pondered. After wat felt like hours of this silence Ratchet spoke.

“Can I offer one last bit of sagely advice?” He did not wait for a response “You got ’a be real careful, Matrix bless you if you even get home tonight. Because now you have a target on your back not just in the arena but outside it as well. You” he stopped himself and began whispering “you started that riot, that warrants an execution if the prime is in a bad mood.” Ratchet closed the pauldron back over Megatron’s joint “Don’t go talking to anyone you don’t trust, ensure you got someone to watch your back like that little bot did for you today.” Ratchet explained cleaning his hands with the dirty clothe again. Before Megatron could respond the pair heard footsteps approaching the med bay rapidly Megatron tensed up fearing the worst. “Relax, I think it’s just my assistant Red Alert . She’s been busy tending to your friend and probably just saw that whole business herself. Like he predicted a short young bot ran into the room like Ratchet she was painted red and white.

“Ratchet! Ratchet! ‘Pant pant’ “It’s urgent we need you.” Red Alert stammered clearly she had ran far.

“What’s wrong lass.”

“The ... the runner up... not his partner the second place .... their alive.” she pointed at Megatron for a moment before pointing back out the door. Ratchet looked at Megatron for a moment shock and horror on his face and back to his assistant.

“You sure??? He looked fairly dead to me on the footage.” Ratchet asked. Megatron knew who they were talking about, Tantrum that Predicon warrior who fought so valiantly yet Megatron ended finished so disrespectfully. He didn’t believe it he had caved that bot’s head in with a jackhammer no way he survived.

“No Ratchet it’s true. When the cleaners tried to collect his body, he stood up walked three paces then collapsed!! You can save him sir, but you’ll have to operate out in the arena. We have to go now though!!” Red Alert called out. Ratchet immediately grabbed his tools and rushed out and she followed. He shouted from around the corner.

“Get home safe now! That shoulder should be good now , make sure ......” he could be heard transforming and driving away.

Megatron rolled his shoulder again there was to sound or tension anymore. The gladiator was relived to hear about Tantrum’s survival it was guilt of his conscious however he doubted even Ratchet could save him, even if he could surly Tantrum would be permanently debilitated. Megatron would rather die a warrior than live to never fight again. There he was again, so proud of the violence he was new to but why?

“Well, I did drive a crowd to such a public protest. I should be proud of that.” He thought out loud. Tonight, he learned of two strengths he had. His physical strength, his ability to shatter bot’s hides with even the poor weaponry he was supplied and strike fear into others putting them on edge forcing them to make sloppy mistakes. His second strength was his voice not his words not his poetry his voice, bots listened to him maybe they only listened because he impressed them with his might but that didn’t matter because he could inspire people enough to kill. Those rioters killed that officer and Barricade killed plenty in the arena. This was a good start , Megatron would make a difference.

*No one can remember a time before we had to kill each other to live*

*Kill each other just to maintain a system nobody loves*

*Who will save what’s left of us when they take off their gloves*