Chapter Text
Champion’s Hall was far too grand a name for a dingy little bar like this one. Its lofty title was earned by luck, as it was the nearest oil house to the Pits of Kaon. Tucked away in a dark alley, its rusty door stood flanked by no less than four bouncers - former gladiators, all of them, too badly injured to continue fighting in the arena but too violent and moody to get a day job. The bar had earned a reputation as the primary watering hole for the Champions of the Pit, and thus, despite its many failings, it never lacked for patrons.
Even Megatronus, the Champion of Champions, found himself there sometimes.
He didn’t much care for the bar, really, when it came right down to it. Bar culture, and the loss of control it entailed, was repulsive to him. He, a mech who sought discipline in his every movement, saw such drunken revelry as a moral failing: an escape that led nowhere and achieved nothing. But regular visits to such desolate places were an ugly necessity of the work he sought to do. How else would he spread his message, recruit followers, stir the beginnings of a movement that would shake the very foundations of Cybertron? They would not come to him. He had to hunt for them himself: the disaffected and oppressed, the angry and the isolated, the bitter and the desperate.
He hoped, one day, to have acolytes beyond the lowlives whom he encountered so frequently in Champion’s Hall. But for now, the mechs he spoke with there served their purpose.
He’d intended to wander further afield that evening after another resounding victory - but fate, as ever, did not intend to play nice with him. Tonight’s victory had been anything but resounding. Although he had still triumphed in the end, he had emerged from the arena with a scar across his helm, a melted shoulder plate, several fractured spinal struts, and a gash in his thigh that required three separate welds to fix. He’d spent at least two cycles in the medbay suffering through repairs while Soundwave ran errands for him.
An average mech would have been forced to call an end to their career over such injuries - but Megatronus was anything but average.
Even so, he felt pathetically off-balance as he walked the streets with Soundwave. There was a limp to his gait he couldn’t quite hide, pain flaring through his circuits with every step he took. Soundwave did his best to look unconcerned, but the way his cables hovered close to Megatronus’ waist spoke louder than any words his old friend might have said. I am ready if you fall. You look as though you might.
Megatronus ground his dentae, glaring up at the flickering red lights that cast a dim pall over the street. He hadn’t wanted to go out at all, if he was honest, but he’d had nothing else to distract him from the pain in his settling welds. He’d expected that Orion would be waiting for him, since he had been in the stands today; but at some point during the battle, Pax must have left.
Some point. Ha. Megatronus knew exactly what point. He’d been knocked backwards with the force of Magmastorm’s slash to his helm and thigh, sliding halfway across the arena towards Orion’s seat. Processor spinning, a split second of panic filled him: that this was the end, that he was about to die, that he’d finally found a mech more powerful than himself. If he was a better mech - the mech he should be - his thoughts would have been upon his fledgling movement, the oppressed that he would leave behind, the danger Soundwave would be in without his protection.
Instead, he thought of Orion.
He’d mustered the energy to crawl towards the archivist, to look up at him from the arena’s floor: meeting his gaze with wild optics. Orion stood above him, hands pressed to his mouth, optics shining with unshed tear fluid. He’d been lit just then by a spotlight, brilliant white: haloed like the Primes of old. Megatronus felt peace wash over him, a soft ease to the pain and panic in his spark.
::If this is the end,:: he commed to Orion, ::Let the last thing I see be you.::
Orion must have made a sound: a shattered sob that had all around him staring. ::Don’t you dare::, Pax replied, pressing a fist to his mouth. ::Get up, Megatronus. Cybertron needs you. I need you. Get up and fight!::
And just like that, time started again: a rush of sound and fury dragging Megatronus from the ground to his feet. Magmastorm barreled towards him, but he felt no fear. Orion Pax needed him. Cybertron needed him. He had work to do still, and he had no intention of dying a slave. He rose, roared across the arena, and spun to meet Magmastorm, as powerful as ever: driven by fury and hope and the desperate need to see and touch and be with Orion again.
To hear him say I need you again.
He’d been crushingly disappointed when he returned to his quarters, only to find them empty. All the fierce joy of victory and the rush of pride that had dulled his pain pulsed away into nothingness, leaving only the agony of his freshly-welded wounds and another, deeper hurt. A hurt he didn’t want to examine too closely.
::Pax: may simply be delayed::, Soundwave had said; but where would he have gone, and why? The match had ended cycles prior, and Pax should know better than to wander the streets of Kaon alone. No, Orion had clearly left, so put-off by what Megatronus had said to him that he couldn’t bear to remain.
Megatronus made a quiet, discontented noise, shrugging off the thought of Pax. It was fine. If Pax had weak tanks, then so be it. It seemed stupid for him to come all this way only to leave without even troubling himself to say hello, especially given the way he’d said I need you; but that was the clerk’s prerogative. It wasn’t like they had an arrangement.
Even if Pax always visited after Megatronus’ matches. Even if he always waited for Megatronus to come home. Even if he always stayed the night.
Even if Megatronus had come within inches of saying I love you, there on the brink of death.
No, it was fine. It was fine. Megatronus certainly hadn’t ordered Soundwave to pull out blankets for the couch in his quarters while the arena’s best medic mended his helm; and he absolutely had not sent Soundwave to get Orion’s favorite brand of energon goodies from a shop down the street. He hadn’t asked Soundwave to make sure they were in a bowl this time, the nice one, the one that looked like it was made of iridescent crystal even though it was merely a cheap knock-off. He definitely had not asked Soundwave if he’d heard anything from Orion when he returned from the medbay to an empty habsuite.
His processor reeled with all the things he had not done. All the things Soundwave was good enough not to mention doing for him, for Pax.
Orion.Pax[Designation:Mine]=missing, his HUD helpfully supplied.
Locate Orion.Pax[Designation:Precious.Beloved]?
Orion.Pax[Designation:Mine.MyDesire]=TrackingDetailMissing{Error code 8898809}
Megatronus dismissed the suggestion, sourly noting the affectionate tags assigned to the clerk. He’d never deliberately given Orion any such designations, but he’d thought them often enough that a list had auto-generated, coding Orion as something more than what he was.
Something more than he would ever be.
CMD: QUERY: [ORION.PAX] + [TAGGED AS]
Orion.Pax
Designation:
Mine
MySparksLight
MyForever
SweetOne
Pet
Precious
Beloved
Darling
Mate
Sweetspark
LittleArchivist
MyOwn [...]
Megatronus cringed as the list went onward: a series of endearments he’d never even said aloud. Primus, let him never say those words aloud. Some of them he didn’t even remember thinking. The list was hideously embarrassing, a gross excess of sentiment he could not afford. Not as a gladiator. Not as the Champion of Kaon.
Especially not over one mech.
CMD: DELETE: [ORION.PAX] + [TAGGED AS {ALL TAGS}]
CMD: REPLACE: [ORION.PAX] + [TAGGED AS {ALL TAGS}]=WITH [DESIGNATION:FRIEND].
ALL TAGS WILL BE DELETED AND REPLACED WITH [DESIGNATION:FRIEND]. DO YOU WISH TO PROCEED?
A light touch on his arm drew him back to the streets. Megatronus cast a glance at Soundwave. The silent mech’s helm tilted, displaying a frowning face on his visor.
::Megatronus: not required to do this.::
“What a lovely thought,” Megatronus growled. “But as torturous as this farce of an evening promises to be, it will be better than brooding alone in my quarters for the night.”
Soundwave’s visor went blank, a vague sound of disapproval playing at low volume. ::Soundwave: can attempt to locate Pax if desired.::
“No,” Megatronus said flatly. “No, if Pax has more important places to be, far be it for me to intrude. I’m sure a simple gladiator like myself would struggle to understand the complexities of an archivist’s busy schedule.”
Soundwave’s visor flashed, and another expression appeared: “🙄”
Wonderful. On top of everything else that had gone wrong today, Soundwave was sassing him. “Your attitude is not appreciated, Soundwave,” Megatronus snapped. “I’m fine. What Pax chooses to do with his spare time is clearly not my concern. And you can tell him so if you happen to find him.”
Soundwave swiveled his helm, replying: “🙄🙄🙄🙄”
“You are incredibly fortunate I owe you my spark several times over,” Megatronus grumbled, glaring into the mech’s visored face. “Were you any other mech, I would crush your helm with one servo for that.”
Soundwave turned to face forward again, his cables gently guiding Megatron around a pothole in the street. ::Megatronus: is not angry with Soundwave. Megatronus: is angry with Pax for abandoning protocol.::
Megatronus huffed, well aware that he sounded like a sparkling who had been denied a treat. “What protocol? There is no protocol,” he said. His spark clenched at the words, squeezing tight inside his chest plates. “He just... always stays. Has never not stayed.” Saying it out loud made it seem stupid and petty: the kind of jealous anger Megatronus had no right to feel.
Orion Pax wasn’t his to feel jealous over. He’d made it clear by leaving that he didn’t want Megatronus anyway.
“I made an assumption,” Megatronus said, gritting his dentae. “A foolish and misguided one. Pax is a free mech - he can do as he likes. He owes me nothing.”
Soundwave reached up and patted Megatronus’ shoulder sympathetically. ::Megatronus: should consider asking Pax for an arrangement.::
“No,” Megatronus sighed. “No, but thank you, Soundwave. Orion is… he…” He vented heavily into the dank air of the street. “He deserves far more than I can ever give him. We are... better off for this, I think.”
Soundwave patted him again, soft and worried. ::Megatronus: should not push himself while sad and wounded. Megatronus: should rest.::
Megatronus chuckled, a mirthless, hollow sound. “I'll rest when my spark is extinguished, and not a moment sooner,” he said. “How can I sit idle when there is work to be done?” He smiled, a thin, sarcastic quirk of his lips. "Besides, I would so hate to disappoint my public."
Soundwave made another sound, a peculiar static buzz that Megatronus could only describe as scoffing - but he didn’t trouble himself to argue further. He knew the real reason Megatronus wanted to be among the people.
If he sat there alone in his empty quarters, he’d think too much about Orion. And if he thought too much about Orion, he’d have to admit how he felt for the mech: that soft, tender, aching swell he loathed and saw as weakness. That sentiment that had auto-created every last damnable endearment for Pax. He’d have to admit that he was angry and sparkbroken that Orion Pax had heard the words ::Let the last thing I see be you:: and gone running.
No, this was better. This was important. Megatronus had work to do, and that mattered far more than some flighty little archivist from the gilded libraries of Iacon.
The gladiator vented softly, made one small change, and gave a command on his HUD.
ALL TAGS FOR [ORION.PAX] DELETED.
DESIGNATION:ACQUAINTANCE ASSIGNED.
DESIGNATION:FRIEND REMOVED.