A buzzer alerted Megatronus, whose optics flashed open. He stared forward with a glazed expression, his frame cold where Starscream had been just a moment ago. The dawn light cast weary stripes through the shutters and the air had the eerie stillness of an early morning.

When the buzzer sounded again, Megatronus rasped, "Knock Out."

Nothing. The medic was either recharging or he had been called into work. Neither was preferable to the gladiator's current position. He sat up, wincing as his frame protested every movement. The wires and cables attached to him were ripped out as he stood up. He felt an immediate power drain, falling to one knee. He paused while his fuel pump powered up and sent energon to his extremities. Once his servos and pedes returned to a more reasonable temperature, he got up.

His plating groaned and rubbed weirdly in the places where it had been crushed in. He dragged his pedes to the door, leaning heavily on the wall and opening it, just as the blue and red grounder pressed the buzzer again.

Megatronus shuttered his optics as the harsh sound. "Orion," he said.

"M-Megatronus! You should not be walking." Concern darkened his bright blue optics and he hugged the data pad he was holding to his chest.

"What are you doing here?" the gladiator rumbled.

"I was hoping I would be able to speak with you, but you need your rest." Orion looked down bashfully. "Perhaps another time," he said, turning to leave.

"You're here now," Megatronus growled. "Come in." He forced his aching frame over to the couch, falling down on it with a sharp exclamation of pain.

"Are you alright?" Orion fretted from the doorway.

"Come in. Sit." Megatronus gestured to the seat next to him, his vocalizer weak and raspy.

Orion nodded politely and closed the door after he entered. His gripped tightened on his trinket.

"Where are Starscream and Knock Out?" he asked.

Megatronus shrugged, gritting his denta when that hurt as well.

Orion sat on the far end of the couch, giving the gladiator a warm gaze.

Megatronus raised an optics ridge. "Well?"

"I apologize for my intrusion," Orion said. "I only have a few days left in Kaon."

"Never mind that," Megatronus waved it away, again regretting the movement. "Just tell me what you want to know."

Orion nodded. "I am an archivist. Recently, I have been conducting research on the 13 original Primes."

"An interesting myth." Megatronus nodded, shutting his optics.

Orion cocked his helm. "It is not a myth."

"If you were expecting a conversation of religion, you should know that I do not believe the Gods ever existed. If Primus truly created all life on Cybertron, surely He would not allow such injustice to occur on His planet."

Orion blinked. "But you took the name of the Fallen. Do you also doubt the existence of him and his brothers and sister?"

"An electric storm ignited a field of sparks near the well and gave them and it life. It is much more believable than your fables." The gladiator crossed his arms.

Orion nodded as if trying to find common ground between them. "May I ask why you chose Megatronus as your name if you do not believe he existed?"

"Because the general consensus is that Primus created us. And if one believes Primus existed, then one would conversely think Unicron once walked Cybertron as well. Megatronus was the part of Primus most like His counterpart. Infamous for the first murder on Cybertron, or so his story goes, he was the perfect choice for a gladiator. His name such an embodiment of fear bots quake at its mere mention. You yourself seem reluctant to utter it."

The grounder gently prodded the screen in his servos. "Words can hold tremendous power, Megatronus. A namesake even more so."

"Then you know why I chose it."

Black digits tapped away diligently, small blue text appearing in a flurry.

"Are you writing this down?" Megatronus questioned.

"Of course. I am interviewing you, after all."

"There weren't any other bots you could bother?"

"Most of them have passed away or have since changed their name," Orion explained, a little flustered. He deleted a large chunk of text. "Were you born of the well or constructed cold?"

Megatronus crossed his arms, keeping them there even when they shook from the effort. "That is too personal a question."

"You can answer off the record." Orion put the data pad down.

"That is not the issue," Megatronus' voice rose in annoyance.

"I am not the type to discriminate a bot based on their creation," Orion assured him.

"Why must you know?"

"If you were born, there is next to no chance of you being connected to the 13 Primes. But, if you were constructed cold..."

Megatronus raised an optic ridge.

The archivist flushed brightly, his words a tad wobbly. "I was wondering if, perhaps, some part of him yet lives in you."

Orion turned towards him with hopeful optics. Their knees were close enough to create an arc between them if they were charged enough.

"That's impossible," he growled.

"Sparks have been known to bond to new hosts," Orion pointed out. "The Fallen's spark was particularly strong."

"The Fallen is a fictitious character in a fictitious tome," Megatronus argued. "Even if the Primes were real his spark would have to be billions of years old."

"I understand that this theory sounds ludicrous, but as long as an appropriate bot was alive-"

"What of the Great Cataclysm? How could a spark survive a time when almost all were terminated?" Megatronus stood then, forcing his legs not to buckle under his immense weight.

Orion rose too. He held his servos up in a calming gesture. "Please sit, Megatronus. You are not well enough to be exerting yourself."

"You are not my medic," the gladiator snarled, stubbornly crossing the room.

"What do you need?" Orion asked. "Let me get it for you." He kept pace with the gladiator.

"I can take care of myself." He tore open the door to Knock Out's energon store, pulling it off of one of its hinges, and took a large cylinder, downing it.

"I do not think it is wise-"

"To what?" Megatronus said, wiping at his mouth. "To tell a complete stranger that he's actually some villain in a new body?"

"I did not mean to suggest that you are a villain. Megatronus was said to be noble, but he lost his way." Orion put his servo comfortingly on the gladiator's shoulder.

Megatronus swatted it away, optics glowing fiercely with rage. He turned away from the grounder and said quietly, "You need to leave."

Quiet pedesteps followed what felt like a lengthy awkward silence, but likely only lasted a nanoklik. The gladiator put his servo to his chest, shakily taking in air as his spark thumped dangerously in its chamber. He held it there until in calmed, but by that point he had no strength left in his limbs. His arms fell first, dragging his chassis with them, until he lay uncomfortably on the floor. After a few cycles, he only had control over his optics, and even they eventually grew heavy and shuttered.


Starscream rubbed his neck and sighed heavily, nudging the employee entrance scanner with his hip. He yawned and stretched as the line of light dipped into every crevice and seam, over plating and protrusions, eventually deciding that, yes, he worked there. The screen by the door flashed on with a picture of him, striking a pose that made him look like he had broken his spinal strut.

Putting one pede in front of the other as if there was an invisible line he had to stay on, he sashayed inside like he owned the place. He squeaked in surprise when the voice of the bot who actually owned the place spoke up.

"What are you doing here?" his boss said. He was leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, optics scanning his club through a one-way mirror.

"I'm scheduled to work today, sir," he said, rubbing his digits together, probably ruining all of Knock Out's handiwork.

"I'm surprised you remembered," he said, aloof. "Considering you forgot your last shift."

"I'm sorry, sir," Starscream said, wings bowed in apology. "It was an emergency."

"What kind of emergency?" his boss said, turning towards Starscream, who now wished his cold optics weren't trained on him.

"My mate," he said. "He... He died."

His boss held his disapproving glare for a moment longer. Then he stepped towards him and put his servo on Starscream's shoulder.

"I'm sorry for you loss," he said, without a trace of sympathy. Then, he used the servo on Starscream's shoulder to push him towards the preparation area. "Now get to work."

Starscream nodded and rushed off hurriedly.

"Oh, and Starscream," he said after him. "If you skip out on another shift, don't bother coming back."

Starscream's plating had sparks jumping from piece to piece, discharging with a snap when his servo came into contact with the doorframe. He tucked his wings down to avoid hitting them on the low ceiling, letting them back up once he was seated in front of his mirror. He picked up his buffer out of habit, then put it down after he was reminded of Knock Out's makeover. The light shined off his wings, which had a near mirror-like finish.

A silhouette appeared behind him. "Don't tell me I worked a double shift just so you could preen yourself," the femme's voice was harsh. She stood with her servos on her hips.

"It was an emergency," Starscream said coolly.

"Yeah, I'm sure new paint is." She flicked the bright red stripe on his wing.

He moved them away from her claws.

"I could do without the extra chassis in my mirror," he said.

She sighed dramatically and stomped over to a shared mirror, which was significantly smaller than Starscream's. "What makes you so special?" she muttered, among other, less polite, words.

Starscream tapped his claws on the vanity table, the clock ticking away agonizingly slowly. A sigh puffed out of his intakes and he rested his helm on the tiny table. For the first time in his life he would have rather been on stage. Thankfully, his coworker finished up and went out to the front, so he would not have to endure her constant glare anymore.

He rolled on to the other side of his helm and spied her now unattended data pad. He sauntered over, conspicuously inconspicuous, and plucked it from its resting place and flopped down onto the floor. He played an optic-glazing game until he was called on stage.

Taking his time, stretching and doing a last check in the mirror, waiting until the crowd got good and rowdy to make his grand entrance. And grand it would be, with his fresh paint job and pristine plating. He flashed himself a flirty smile, winked and flapped his wings. Tips would be good tonight.

He had an ethereal air as he stepped through the opening onto the stage. He prowled around the edge, close enough to touch but too unattainable to try. He fed on their awed faceplates. For the few cycles that he was before them, he was their king.

A servo stroked his calf, and the performer responded by stabbing his heel down upon that servo, effectively pinning it. He turned his helm slowly to the offender, stalling with widened optics. The slender purple servo belonged to an eerily familiar looking bot. Starscream shook his helm, convinced he was looking in a mirror, or that he was dreaming. His spark painfully tugged forward, threatening to burst from his chest. The performer stumbled back, putting on a less convincing smile, looking at anyone but that bot.

"Something wrong, sweetheart?" came an overly confident call.

Starscream turned his flirty optics to the source of the disruption. Holding onto the pole for support, he tipped the helm of the mech up with his pede. "My name is Starscream," he told him. "And you will address me as such." He flicked his pede up.

"Oh, wow," he heard someone gush. The voice was instantly memorable. Starscream could have listened to him talk for vorns.

Starscream turned away and gave the crowd some wing play while his spark thrummed wildly. He could feel the mech's gaze on him, totally throwing off his stage presence.

He tightened his grip on the pole and swung himself onto it, spinning around and bending his back until his wingtips nearly touched his pedes. He slowly opened his optics, unfortunately falling on the faceplate of the mech from before. Their gazes locked. Starscream stared, mouth agape, while the mech stared with admiration and a growing smirk.

Starscream scowled and tore his optics away, aggressively twirling around the pole, ventilating excessively as his frame verged on the brink of overheating. Yet no matter what movement he made, no matter where he placed himself on that stage, he always seemed to find himself looking at the black and purple mech.

He seemed to be enjoying whatever this was, leaning back in his chair and smirking. Part of Starscream yearned to smack the expression off of his faceplate, the other, yearned to kiss it off of him.

Starscream came down on both of his pedes, standing with his servos on his hips.

"Frag you," he said, before strutting off with taut wings at half height.

He slammed the stage door behind him, only muffling the complaints from the crowd. His spark pulled him back against the wall. He could practically hear it begging for him to go back. He scratched grooves into his chest so that the pain outweighed any other feeling. He grit his denta and stormed off, making a beeline for the exit. A bot grabbed him by the wrist.

"What the hell was that?" his boss bellowed.

Starscream ripped his arm from his grip. "I did my job!"

"You were far from done your routine!"

"I was being harassed!"

"That comes with the assignment," he growled, towering over him. "Now get back out there."

"Get fragged," Starscream spat. He whacked his boss' faceplate with his wing as he whirled around and strut angrily out the door.

Once outside, he threw a tantrum against the building, kicking and screeching, until he was just hitting his helm against it, muttering, "Stupid, stupid."

He felt the pull in his chest before he saw him. "Don't ruin your pretty finish."

Starscream turned his back to him. "Leave me alone."

"I think we both know that's not gonna happen."

The performer dared a peek over his shoulder. The mech, so strikingly like him, was leaning arrogantly against the wall, one leg crossed over the other. He saw their one difference then. The mech's calves and pedes were much chunkier than his, built for actually keeping one upright.

"Who are you?" Starscream asked cautiously, turning towards him.

"I think you know," the mech purred. He circled Starscream, optics scanning up and down his frame.

"I think I don't," Starscream growled. He turned so his aft was always pointed away from the stranger's invasive stare.

The mech got close. So close Starscream was sure there was a magnet in his spark chamber.

"We've met before," he whispered.

"Look, I don't remember everyone in my audiences."

"No. Vorns ago. You probably won't remember. But I know."

"You're crazy."

Starscream pushed him away and stalked off. He stopped around the corner when he heard another voice.

"Skywarp. What are you doing?" The voice was deep and had an air of wisdom to it.

"TC- I found him!"

"Him? Him who?"

"Him. Our trinemate!" he declared enthusiastically.

Starscream's intakes hitched. His optics widened and he increased the power to his audial receptors.

He heard a sigh. "You've had too much to drink, Skywarp. Let's get you home."

"I felt it. I'm telling you it's him."

"Okay, Skywarp. Let's talk about it tomorrow."

Pedesteps and Skywarp's voice faded as they went beyond Starscream's audio range. The performer was left dumbfounded. He felt frozen in place for what felt like megacycles. Then, he ran.