Grimlock

They had been training together for months, drilled and re-drilled. His initial misgivings were not entirely gone; he still considered himself a loner, Sludge was still a moron, and Slag was still an asshole, and Swoop was still skinny; but despite his skepticism, they had actually gelled quite quickly, and damn if they didn't work extremely well together. So far their time together had consisted of nothing more than drilling, practice scenarios and sparring…granted, full contact sparring that more often than not left everyone involved in need of medical attention, but they all proved more than capable of taking a severe beating and they all healed quickly, even the scrawny Swoop. Grimlock continued peering at the twenty stout robots from Ankmor that were arrayed against them in this re-creation of the Liberation of Petrex, a battle that had occurred almost nine and a half million years ago, when the routed forces of Ankmor regrouped, licked their wounds, and set out to recapture their capital city that had been occupied by several legions of Deathsaurus's Nyonian beast soldiers. It seemed appropriate given the numerically superior Ankmor pussies bearing wheels and treads lined up against the Nyonian gladiators bearing teeth and claws. The only problem that Grimlock had with tying this brawl to the historical battle was that in the battle, the forces of Ankmor prevailed. History was not going to be followed this slaggin' day.

"Any last minute words of wisdom, boss?" Snarl quipped as he eagerly looked over the enemy.

"Non-fatality bout, so make them wish they were dead, just don't grant the wish." Grimlock grumbled. "Everything else I'm confident you already know."

"So, how in character do we need to be?" Swoop asked, a smile spreading over his face. "Like, do we need to call you Goryu?"

"Shut up." Grimlock growled.

Starscream swooped out of the sky and landed in the center of the pit, looking up into the throngs watching the event above and around him. "Good evening fight fans! Tonight we are in for a real treat! We will take you back nine and a half million years, to the second uprising of Deathsaurus, and the occupation of Petrex. The forces of Ankmor, driven from their capital, battered, beaten, broken, scattered across the wastelands surrounding their city finally regrouped, rekindled their fighting desire and set upon the impossible task of reclaiming their city." Starscream waved over to the twenty gladiators that had traveled all the way from the northern emirate. The crowd cheered them on as they all waved at the applause. "But dead set on retaining their conquered city, the bestial hordes of Nyon, under the leadership of General Goryu…" Starscream paused as the crowd booed intently the Nyonians, who while fellow southerners, were regarded as sub-Cybertronian beasts, "met them on the battle field. The numerically superior native Ankmorians met the fully charged and entrenched beasts of Nyon in a battle that finally freed their homeland after six full days of battle!" Starscream looked to his wrist as a chrono-display was revealed in a mock display of checking the time. "Hopefully tonight's festivities won't last that long, Emir Macht wants us out of here by morning." The crowd laughed and started cheering for the battle to begin.

"Sooooo," Swoop loudly called out to his teammates, "they've replicated the numerical advantage for the northern fops, does that mean that they've sapped their fuel supplies as well, or that our position in this pile of gravel is more advantageous than theirs?"

"Nope," Snarl replied, "to do that would provide too much chance of history NOT repeating itself, and the promoters are trying to make Ankmor and other northern pussies get the warm fuzzies about getting involved in the circuit."

"So the bastards are sacrificing us?" Slag grumbled.

"We won't be sacrificed." Sludge replied earnestly. "There's no killing."

"Our unbeaten streak, you dumbshit, not our lives!" Slag snapped. "They're basically jobbing us here!"

"Grimlock doesn't job, whether by choice or by the heavy-handed pressuring of the pipe-lickers in charge!" Grimlock roared as the red lights around the arena changed to yellow, indicating that the fight was about to commence. "Tonight, history will NOT repeat itself!" The lights flashed green, and instinct kicked in for Grimlock; a revised instinct, one that had to be amended from that of a lone predator into that of a pack hunter. The pack Alpha. It was a role he never wanted, one he violently resisted, one he openly scorned at every opportunity, but at moments like this, as he charged in against four-to-one odds in front of a crowd that hated him for reasons ranging from his bestial shell, his Nyonian heritage, his undefeated record, his disdain for…well, everything, as well as any number of other reasons to hate him; at this moment he relished in his pack. He relied on them as much as they relied on him. He had feared they would slow him down, get in his way, or provide some sort of vulnerability to his opponents. They had done none of that. Though Grimlock was certain that they shared no spark affinity, their ability to work with, around and in support of one another was uncanny.

Grimlock powered into eight hammer, mace, sword and axe-wielding would be tough guys while his team dealt with the others. He didn't need to watch them to know how his comrades were faring. Swoop and Sludge, who had nothing in common beyond a pleasant disposition outside the arena, were likely teaming up to punish the group of six trying to flank them to the left, while Slag and Snarl set upon the rest, independently beating the hell out of anything that moved and was not a member of the squad. The Liberation of Petrex had taken over six days and had resulted in a legendary victory for Ankmor. The recreation was over in twenty-four minutes, and the only Ankmorian left conscious was agonizingly made to belt out Slag's favorite drinking song while the horned Nyonian adjusted the knee in his back based on whether the singing was to his liking. Slag grinned down at the last northern warrior as he pressed his knee deeper into the small of his back. "Louder!"

"Slag?" Grimlock casually called out over the sounds of the horrible singing mixed with gasps of pain and the roar of the agitated crowd.

Slag looked up at his leader as the rest of the team gathered around him. "Already? We didn't even need to transform!"

"They were a bunch of northern dandies." Swoop explained.

"Even in bot mode, the rest of us still had to step up to make up for your lollygagging." Snarl quipped with a grin. "We should rename you Slack."

"Up your ass, bitch!" Slag roared as he hammered the pinned gladiator beneath him unconscious with a punch and started marching toward Snarl. The crowd's disappointed booing immediately shifted to excited cheering as it appeared the two Nyonians were about to get into it.

"Enough!" Grimlock bellowed. "Get the hell back in the locker room, and if either of you touch each other, I'll transform and bite your slagging limbs off!"

The team marched through the battered remains of their opposition, the re-angered cries of the crowd bombarding them with malicious, but oddly entertaining insults and threats. A cacophony of auditory chaos made up of an incalculable number of words hammering against one another, but one word, a name, repeatedly rang clear to Grimlock. He had been hearing this name for months now, and here, deep within Polyhex, it seemed to be mentioned in every other breath of every local. So it seemed fitting, if nothing else, that the owner of this name was waiting for him in the locker room. "Greetings Grimlock." The chrome gladiator delivered with a smile as the five Nyonians exited the tunnel and entered the large expanse that served as one of four storage, recharging, cleansing and medical facilities.

Grimlock looked the newcomer over and then at the various other gladiators and managers in the room before walking to a bench and sitting down, peering lazily at the metal floor. "So I finally get to meet the gladiator everyone is talking about." The hulking warrior from the city of Simfur looked up and nodded at the newcomer. "This Megatron of Tarn that everyone thinks will finally hand me a loss."

"That is my intention should we ever face off against each other." Megatron sat on a bench across from Grimlock. "But that's not why I'm here now. They'll be drumming up our fight for several more months at least before we finally meet in the pits, but I needed to seek you out sooner than that. Frankly, I'd rather not face you in the pit; I believe that there is a greater destiny for the two of us, one that has us fighting shoulder to shoulder, not face to face."

"We've got a full roster already." Swoop interjected as he walked over to the small medical scanning array and allowed himself to be inspected.

"Not what I meant." Megatron smiled before peering directly at Grimlock. "Is there somewhere we can speak alone?"

Grimlock chuckled as he bent some dented metal over his knuckles back into place. "I don't feel like scrambling off to a secret room, and I've never really felt any need to keep anything from my team." He nodded to the rest of the people in the locker room. "Feel free to shoo out whoever you don't want listening, but me and my guys are staying right here."

Megatron looked around and assessed each individual in the room. "You, Swindle; Starscream says that you can be trusted." The chrome gladiator chuckled. "Well, no, in fact, he says the opposite. But he did mention your name when compiling a list of those he felt would be interested in what I propose. Do you trust your men with your life? Because if you choose to stay, and you choose to allow them to stay, and word of what I'm about to say gets out, I'll be killing you all."

Swindle, standing between two of his bodyguard/goons on one side and the red and yellow Autobot deserters on the other looked them over as he considered his answer. "I trust these two completely…" the tan and purple criminal jerked his thumb at his henchmen, "as for these two…" nodding to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker before addressing them directly, "sorry boys, you're great fighters, and you make me a lot of money, but I'm not about to stake my life on a pair of former Autobots out to make some dough."

"Autobots?" Megatron asked, suddenly intrigued. He stepped toward the brothers and addressed them directly. "What drew you to them, and what made you leave their membership."

"Not sure we formally left," Sideswipe answered with a shrug, "we're just a little burned out with the pointless graffiti and other petty annoyances we toss at the powers that be while accomplishing zilch, and figured we could make some scratch fighting. We like fighting."

"We're great at fighting." Sunstreaker added arrogantly.

"Yes you are, I've seen the footage." Megatron replied as he stood up and approached them. "You're one of the most skilled combatants I've ever seen," he motioned to Sunstreaker before turning his gaze to Sideswipe and continuing, "and you're almost as skilled, and punch well above your weight-class. But you haven't answered my first question. What drew you to the Autobots?"

"Because slag the nobles." Sunstreaker shot back, then looked over at the horned Nyonian gladiator sitting on a bench glaring at them. "Not you, just the technical term for shit that you're named after."

"Screw you!" Slag roared as he stood up.

"Enough!" Both Megatron and Grimlock roared at the same time, causing them both to look at each other and give a silent chuckle.

"As my brother was attempting to say," Sideswipe piped up, giving Sunstreaker an angry glare, "we're not fond of putting anyone above us because they crawled out of a puddle of mud that was fancier than ours."

Megatron measured them visually for several moments before continuing with his questions. "Autobots believe that all are of equal value; do you share that opinion?"

Though looking at Sideswipe, it was Sunstreaker that answered, his response opening with a disdainful snigger. "Ha. No, slag that. Most of those lumps aren't fit to polish my bumper, but they're the only game in town when it comes to sticking it to the Man."

Megatron smiled at Sunstreaker before turning back to Sideswipe. "Do you agree?"

Sideswipe shrugged. "Not to the same extent, and not for the same reasons, but, yeah, I guess. I mean, the iron needs to be separated from the ore to be worth a damn. But there's no shortage of ore in the nobility, nor iron amongst the commoners, so between the Autobots and the status quo, the Autobot philosophies are more appealing to us."

Megatron's smile broadened at the answer. "These two may stay." He turned and looked to the various other robots in the locker room who were not a part of Grimlock's team or a part of Swindle's entourage. "Get out." The other robots looked to one another, then quickly gathered their possessions and scampered out. Once they left, Megatron looked back at Grimlock. "Now then, let me share with you my vision for the future."

Terminus

He awoke to a pronounced headache, vision that took nearly an entire minute to get clear, and sounds of work and casual conversation going on around him. When his vision finally did clear, and the pain in his head subsided enough for him to raise it without wincing, Terminus looked up to see bars surrounding him. He was seated in a cage for one to crouch comfortably within, but not tall enough for him to stand up. Outside his cage were several disreputable looking robots moving crates around the warehouse that they were in. "What's going on?" He asked to one individual passing in front of him wheeling a crate.

The other robot looked at him and smiled. "Skullcruncher, another one ready for orientation."

A moment later a green, purple and white robot squatted down in front of his cage and grinned at him. "Good morning. How are we feeling today?"

"Confused, irritated, and gearing up to deliver several beatings." Terminus growled.

"Yeah, that's the normal reaction to waking up in a cage." Skullcruncher replied. "And you clearly look like the type who can, and has, delivered many a beating. But whoever you used to be, whatever you used to do, is over now. You are now…" the captor turned to look over at a comrade, "hey Demus, what's the term the boss likes to use for the slaves?"

"Chattel!" The reply was called out by someone outside of Terminus's view.

"Chattel, yes, that's it." Skullcruncher smiled at Terminus. "You're now chattel."

Terminus stared at his captor for a minute before rolling his optics and chuckling lightly. "You stupid bastards knocked out the wrong guy."

"Oh, is that so?" Skullcruncher sarcastically asked. "Are you someone important?"

Terminus raised his optics and met Skullcruncher's gaze. "Me? No. But my boss is." He watched as the other robot's pliable metal brow furrowed in genuine interest. "My name is Terminus, I am a…retainer of sorts to Militus Macht. I have served him for many vorns, and while I do not profess to be of great importance, my absence will most definitely be noted and inquiries will be made. And, while I'm not important, when Emir Macht finds out that his retainer was abducted and sold into slavery, he will make those responsible pay, if for no other reason, than to demonstrate that actions taken against him or those representing him will have dire consequences."

Skullcruncher was silent for several moments before nodding. "OK, while the boss isn't afraid of Militus Macht, he probably doesn't want to start a war over one inconsequential slave. So I'll do a little checking, verify that you are who you say you are, and if everything checks out, we'll send you on your way with a little energon for your troubles."

"How did you knock me out, anyway?" Terminus asked, rubbing his head. "All I remember was walking through Rodion, then waking up here."

"Trade secret." Skullcruncher replied. "If you don't mind me asking, what's one of Militus's boys doing so far from Kaon?"

"Not official business." Terminus replied. "Emir Macht allows those that serve him well to attend to personal matters from time to time. I was following the fight circuit to Tarn when you waylaid me."

"Ah, well then, provided you're set free, you might as well stay put." The captor replied, straightening up to a standing position. "The Tarnian games concluded last night. I don't follow the fights that closely, but I hear the Nyonians trounced the Ankmorians in the main event. Crowd was a little pissed that a local boy who's made a name for himself didn't fight in his hometown. Don't know much about that guy. You ever hear of this Tarnian gladiator?"

"I'm familiar with him." Terminus grumbled.

"Anyway, they have a second event in Rodion scheduled for tomorrow night, so you can catch up to them then…provided you are who you claim to be."

"I am, so please go do what you need to do so that I can leave." The captive snapped.

"Fine, fine…" Skullcruncher started to reply just as the door thirty yards behind him was torn to pieces by the frame being blasted through it.

A moment later a red and blue form walked through the doorway and stepped over the unconscious frame that had been used to destroy the door. "Where is he?" The robot roared, an ion rifle gripped tightly in his right hand.

Terminus watched as bolts of various calibers and compositions rained down at the intruder, but missed as the intruder displayed reflexes that belied belief and dove behind several pallets of metal crates. He then popped up on the other side and returned fire, apparently very deliberate in what he fired at as they were single rounds, each punctuated by a pained cry and one less stream of weapon's fire directed at him.

"Hold your fire!" Skullcruncher yelled out and walked toward the center of the room, unarmed and his arms raised in submission. "Hold your fire!" Terminus watched as the intruder stared intently at the approaching Skullcruncher. "Please, Officer Pax, let's discuss things civilly."

"Civilly?" The officer replied incredulously. "Fine, tell me where he is, release your captives, abandon this facility to the authorities, and I'll let you walk away…for now."

"Believe me Orion, he WANTS to meet you face to face." Skullcruncher stated as the two stopped within a few feet of one another. "But he wants to do it once you're in a calmer, more reasonable state of mind. He likes you, he has high hopes for you, but he fears that if he faces you while your energon is boiling you'll force him to kill you, and he desperately wants to avoid that. It's causing him distress that you haven't accepted any of his offers. He genuinely wants you with us, he's courting you more than I've ever seen…well, come to think of it, I've never seen him court anyone before. It's outside his nature to be the one chasing. And having his generous offers met with hostility…well, there's only so much he can take."

"Good!" The angered officer snapped. "Only another push or two and he'll finally present himself to me."

Skullcruncher chuckled ominously. "Look kid, you're tough, no question about it. You're the only guy to have ever gone toe to toe with the boss and walked away. Well, ran away. And that's just it, you shot him in the knees and fled, so don't go thinking you're a bigger badass than you are."

"Fine, I'm outclassed, all the more reason for him to face me." Officer Pax snapped.

"Yes, you are…" Skullcruncher answered, "but you did stun him. None of the other boys want to admit it, but those of us still awake saw the lights definitely flicker when you tagged him. So, knowing that you would keep coming at us, and feeling it prudent to get a better understanding of what you're capable of, I took it upon myself to seed our various facilities with some…heavies, if you will." The criminal let loose a whistle and a moment later two massive, rotund, thirty-six foot tall robots walked into the expanse from the back room. "Not sure which is which, but one of them is Hammer, the other is Anvil. I'm guessing you have a fair shot of taking one of them, but there's no way you're taking both. A good display against both of them in unarmed combat probably is the fastest way to ensure Overlord's presence, though, so…"

Orion looked the two giants over before turning back to Skullcruncher. He then looked toward the row of cages, four of them, each with an occupant. With expert aim he raised his rifle and destroyed the locks on each of them. "Leave, now!" The occupants of two of the cages sprinted through the empty doorway, a third hobbled a few steps, but collapsed due to his mangled leg.

The fourth, Terminus, exited his cage but walked over to the downed former prisoner and helped him to his feet. He looked up at Orion Pax as he looped the other prisoner's arm over his shoulder. "Don't mind us, Officer, I was already set to be free, and I doubt that they would be opposed to cutting loose a slave incapable of walking."

Orion looked to Skullcruncher for verification, and the predominantly green robot shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, fine, they're free to go."

Pax looked the giants over one more time before nodding. "I go through these guys and Overlord comes out of the woodwork?"

Skullcruncher chuckled. "IF…you beat both of them, then yeah, I can't imagine him not taking your bait. You'll have definitely proven yourself worthy at that point. Frankly, I'm expecting a good showing, but you're not going to beat them both."

Terminus continued hobbling with his fellow former captive, but they both started slowing, genuine interest in the fight growing within them. They watched as Pax nodded and placed his rifle on the floor. "I will beat them both. Overlord is a powerhouse; these two, they're just big."

"Is that northern dandy talking about us?" One of the giants asked derisively.

"Let's show him what a powerhouse really is." The other answered back as they both started marching toward the police officer.

"Good luck Officer Pax." Skullcruncher offered as he backed away.

The first of the giants swung down heavily on the twenty-two foot tall officer, who easily side-stepped and delivered an overhand right of his own to the knee of the massive robot, causing a sickening crunch sound to reverberate through the warehouse. "Agghhh!" The large robot dropped to his shattered knee.

"Hammer!" The other yelled. "You OK buddy?"

"Worry about yourself!" Orion yelled as he leapt up, gripped the shoulder of Hammer, and used it to pommel over him up toward his compatriot, Anvil. Twisting mid-air, Orion delivered a thunderous roundhouse kick to the side of the massive thug's head. Anvil crashed down hard to the floor, the red and blue police officer tucking as he hit the ground and rolling back up to a standing position.

"Incredible." The injured robot whispered to Terminus as they watched the fight. "He's so fast."

"He is." Terminus agreed quietly, marveling that fast was an understatement.

Hammer forced himself through the pain in his knee back to a standing position and turned to face the intruder. "You're gonna sodding die!"

"Ughn." Anvil groaned as he slowly started to stir.

Orion charged at Hammer, but his charge was halted as he raised his arms to parry a straight right from the massive criminal. Hammer followed with a left that Orion ducked under and met with a counter upper-cut that landed just below the elbow. Hammer groaned, no significant damage was done, but the strike did put him off balance enough for Pax to get inside his reach. A blip of a second later Orion was delivering an overhand left directly into the crotch-plate of the Heavy, causing the robot to cry out in pain.

"Primus, he's…he's winning." The injured robot commented again. Terminus simply remained silent, watching a combination of speed, strength, agility and spatial awareness that he had only witnessed in one other being.

"Hammer!" Anvil called out again as he watched his friend staggering away from the robot they'd been hired to put a severe beating on. Shaking off the remaining cobwebs, Anvil pushed himself to his feet and charged after Pax. It wasn't as though he was trying to sneak up on the officer, but he still shuddered with surprise as the red robot suddenly and viciously whipped around to face him and met his charge. Terminus watched as fists became a whirlwind of motion. This Anvil was fairly fast for someone his size, but Pax was simply a blur of red and blue destruction. The giant's armor was extremely thick, perhaps as thick as a living being could possess and still remain functioning, but it was being battered like foil by the barrage of knuckle-bombs exploding on his mid-section. The unrelenting pain forced the giant to bend forward, and Terminus wondered whether he caught the site of blue knuckles before everything went black for him. Anvil hit the ground again hard, this time flat on his back, his arms dropping to either side and creating loud thuds as well.

It was then that Terminus noticed that the other one, Hammer, had actually been making his way toward them. He looked up at the oncoming brute and could do nothing to prevent the backhand that sent him spiraling across the floor. "Move, bitch!"

"What are you doing?" Terminus heard Orion yell as he struggled to get his bearings. He looked up to see Hammer clutching the other prisoner, one now crying out in further pain as the massive robot started crushing his torso. "Release him now!"

"Up yours, princess!" Hammer roared back. "We didn't come here blank, we did some reading up on you." He increased his pressure on his hostage a bit more as Orion marched toward them, stopping abruptly to look down, and stomping down on the butt of his rifle to send it popping into the air, allowing him to catch the handle and raise the weapon to the giant robot's head. "Ooooooohhhhhh, such a show of toughguyness! As I was saying before you decided to show us those tiny bearings of yours, we read up on you. You've got a big soft spot for peasant shitsacks that can be exploited." Pax's thumb reached up and flicked something on his rifle. "Another show of toughguyness? That brings me to the other thing we learned about you; you've never killed anyone. You've been a cop in Rodion for months, and you've yet to take a life? It can't be due to a lack of opportunities, not in Rodion, so that leaves one only one possibility left; you don't have the nerve."

"You really want to put that theory to the test?" Orion asked, not the slightest bit of doubt in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm pretty certain." Hammer replied, watching as Anvil started to stir again.

"Release him!" Pax reasserted.

"Yeah, no problem." Hammer replied, unfurling a blade from as compartment on his forearm and bringing it to his captive's frame. "I'm just going to shave a few chunks off this little bitch first."

"Hammer," Orion started sternly, "your analysis of me was half right. I've never killed before, I'd prefer to keep it that way, and if there's a way to resolve a situation without taking a life, I'll do my damnedest to find it. But you're wrong about me lacking the nerve to do so. You're threatening the life of another, I have every reason to believe you'll carry out your threats, I know that the danger that individual faces is real and likely life ending, and I know any option for resolving this without deadly force is fading quickly."

"Who ya' tryin' to convince, cop, me or yourself?" Hammer growled as he slowly started running his blade along his victim. "Or perhaps you're afraid you'll miss, and talking me down is your only chance at success."

"Hammer, with all humility, I'm successful at everything I attempt." Pax calmly, but sternly warned. "Things I try for the first time, I'm good at. Things I've practiced, I'm a master of. And I've had more than my share of target practice. Trust me, I will not miss. Now, please, release your hostage!"

"Whatever bitch-boy!" Hammer snarled as he pulled the blade back to plunge it into his victim. Terminus watched the face of Orion Pax, he watched as pain, regret, fear and sorrow washed over the young Cybertronian's face, but there was no hesitance as the ion canon spit forth a deadly round. There was no joy in his expression as Hammer's head jerked back a fraction of a second before he could drive his blade down, nor was there any sense of accomplishment as the giant released his prisoner and collapsed to the floor. Officer Orion Pax had overcome impossible odds, he had rescued 4 prisoners, one a second away from the infliction of a fatal wound, he was justified and successful by any measure, but all Terminus could see was disappointment etched on the face of a young idealist who clearly felt he should have found another way to resolve this impossible situation. It was the expression Terminus had been hoping to see months before on the face of another.

Delta Magnus

"Primus, Lord of Light, Order and Creation, please accept these humble gifts of ours!" The tall, elegant Mistress of Flame stood upon the altar built into the cliff-face of Mount Magnasticus, the peak overlooking Citidel Magnus in the central section of the Hydrax Plateau, the capital city of the Tagan Heights. The hundreds of worshippers standing below her called out in support of her words, clamoring for more. The majority of the emirate, most of the northern planet really, already held with the monotheistic belief in the god Primus, but it was the more modern and contemporary view of the creator; the kinder, forgiving and reasonable Primus. It was the depiction of Primus provided by later prophets and holy men they typically used to envision their god. The Primus being worshipped now was the one described in texts from the pre-Knight era, a Primus that was vengeful, spiteful, jealous, a deity that played favorites, that lashed out at his creations for any manner of offense, no matter how seemingly petty, that gave commands that sometimes seemed to contradict prior commands, and that demanded tributes of blood and spark to feel satisfied by the devotion of his creations.

That was a depiction that the followers of The Guiding Hand used to portray Primus, and one the weak, acquiescing fools that claimed to speak for Primus in more recent eras tried to distance themselves and their faith from. These neo-Primus worshippers presented him as a more measured, merciful deity that loves his creations, and demanded no death be done in his name; something more palatable to the weak-willed masses unable to bend to the will of their god and crying out for a god willing to bend to their needs. Delta Magnus looked over the devoted, and then peered out at those less-devout watching from a distance; frightened, angered, disgusted by the display, and Delta understood. Upon hearing what the Mistress of Flame said would be required to prove their devotion, Delta initially balked. He had no interest in spilling blood and extinguishing spark for a deity that he felt would be more offended than honored. But she had convinced him, made it clear to him that the original depictions of their creator were accurate, and all other depictions were falsehoods made by charlatans. Now, as he looked up at the pen beside the altar, at several organic beasts as well as several large cyberfoxes, he powered past his own revulsion and pity by telling himself that this was what Primus, the TRUE Primus commanded of them. It would take longer for the masses, who lacked his internal fortitude, to accept what he had accepted, but eventually they would; it was part of his grand destiny to bring all of Cybertron into the fold, kicking and screaming if need be. Starting with the blue, red and white royal freight hauler speeding out from Citidel Magnus right now.

Delta turned to face the arriving vehicle, and stood with arms crossed as it transformed into his kinsman Ultra. "Emir Magnus, what the hell is going on?"

"Watch your words, Ultra Magnus!" Delta warned. "I recognize that you are not a follower of our religion yet, but that does not give you the right to barge in and demand anything in a disrespectful manner!"

"I apologize for my tone, my Emir," Ultra Magnus said begrudgingly, "but I couldn't help but notice the pen with both cybernetic and organic life forms up by the altar. Perhaps it's a case of my imagination running away with me, but it almost appears as though your fire priestess means to sacrifice them."

"Is that against the law?" Emir Magnus asked. "I assure you, there are no outstanding legal claims on any of the animals. Any that were property were either purchased legally or donated most willingly."

Ultra Magnus paused in disbelief for a moment before responding. "Technically, you are correct, my Liege. No laws were created to outlaw such practices, particularly because in the post Knight era, and certainly after the creation of the unified government, such practices were so taboo, so abhorrent, so long-abandoned that no laws were required; they were already universally rejected."

"But don't you see Ultra, so much that has been done since the Knights has been wrong." Delta Magnus said. "Especially in regards to our depictions and acts of devotions to Primus."

"The Knights shaped our world," Ultra Magnus replied stunned, "and are the reason you and I are in positions of power! Our very name is derived from the Knight Magnus! We are his descendants! What you are doing, and your reasons for doing it, dishonor him and what he and his comrades accomplished! They saved our world!"

"I respect and honor the Knights, my brother, and true, they laid many of the foundation of our world in terms of law and governance. But they said and did very little in regard to religion." Delta Magnus replied. "This softening of our Lord and Creator was not their doing, it was the doing of others that were born into a world of safety and justice, others who had no knowledge of the carnage that is the norm. Primus is not alone, he has an opposite number, a master of chaos. The Knights defeated the minions of chaos, not chaos itself. For us to be ready for it when it returns, we must harden ourselves, devote ourselves to our master, and pray that he finds us worthy of his support when the darkest hour arrives."

The stunned Ultra Magnus stared disbelievingly at his brother. "Delta, that's dogma, dogma supported by no factual evidence or reason." He then turned his gaze up to the altar where the Mistress of Flame was leading a pair of beasts from the pens to the sacrificial mount, one a mechanical cyberfox, the other horned, shaggy aurochalus that was as large as she was; both beasts terrified.

"You put too much faith in reason, my younger brother." Delta replied dismissively.

The comment brought Ultra's stunned gaze back upon his brother. "Did you really just say that?"

Delta met his gaze. "You put more value in reason than in the word of our god?"

"I put more value in reason than any religion that exists." Ultra replied authoritatively. "And regardless of what a religion claims, reason never runs contrary to the words of any god worth worshipping."

"There are forms of reason beyond our understanding."

"Then it falls upon our creator, or his, her, its or their acolytes to make us understand before we end a life in his, her, it or their name." Ultra snapped.

Delta glared angrily at his kinsman, but relaxed and shook his head. "I will pray for you brother."

Ultra looked up at the altar, where the sacrificial blades were coming down on the first of the offerings, causing cries of animalistic pain and panic to fill the air. He turned and started walking back toward Citadel Magnus. "Save your prayers for sacrificial beasts…and sacrificial Autobots."

Prowl

The prison, dungeon really, was a dark and hopeless place. He had never really had a problem with these traits until he had signed the order to put Orion Pax down here, albeit temporarily. Unfortunately that bit of empathy and recognition of the injustice for one opened the door for consideration of other prisoners. Dangerous felons got what they deserved, but those down here for minor offenses, including those guilty of acts of civil disobedience that had been trumped up to attempted Primalcide, well, Prowl's certainty that he was just in all he was doing was not what it once was. He passed the rows of cells…basically just cages with cots, until he stood in front of one housing a large, red, orange and yellow Autobot. "Hello Blaster."

The large Autobot raised his head and glanced at Prowl, too physically and mentally worn to be playful. "What do you want Prowl? Our execution isn't for a couple more days."

There was a long stretch of silence before Prowl finally responded. "Perhaps, if you cooperate, we can avoid the execution."

Blaster looked up, one optic arched behind his cracked visor. "Let me guess, all I have to do is turn over my comrades, is that it?" Prowl nodded, eliciting a chuckle from the prisoner. "At the very least you should have promised to avoid the executionsssss, plural."

Prowl's expression remained fixed and devoid of emotion. "Frankly Blaster, I've overstepped my authority even offering to spare you. Prime doesn't know I'm here. He's hot to see you killed, but I believe that with an adequate offering, I can get him to spare you. I can certainly advocate for mercy for your comrades, and I promise you I will do my best, but he's adamant that an assault on the Prime needs to be met with execution."

"Save your breath," Blaster chuckled as his head dropped back down, "I never had any intention of telling you shit."

"I assumed as much." Prowl replied. "Just as I assume I'll get the same answer from your comrades, but I'll ask them all the same."

"Feeling guilty about executing some nogoodniks guilty of playing with glue-guns?" The prisoner smirked.

In the past some form of brush off to the questioning of a punishment would have been instinctive and instant, but Prowl no longer possessed the conviction he once had. He couldn't justify this punishment. And while he had no intention of validating Blaster's question, he could offer no response other than to silently turn and walk away, which served as enough validation to the prisoner, whose laughter accompanied Prowl down the corridor toward the next Autobot prisoner.

Orion Pax

"We're almost there."

"Thank you, Officer." The injured civilian grunted through the pain as he sat on the rear portion of Orion Pax's vehicular mode. "May the Guiding Hand hold you through all of your days."

"Thank you sir." Orion replied instinctively, his mind weighed down by thoughts of what had just transpired, and an act that while justified and unavoidable, was something that had changed him, and that it was a change that he could never undo. The other prisoner, Terminus, had been very consoling and rational about the matter as they had exited the warehouse and as he helped load the injured citizen onto Orion. The young officer instinctively knew that Terminus knew of what he spoke, that he had been there himself, and oddly enough, could sense that the elder seemed very approving, almost to the point of admiration, of how Pax was dealing with the situation. Dealing? Perhaps that wasn't the right word. He hadn't had time to really deal with it. He had quickly called in the situation to Momus, then getting the other captive, this Ardulas, medical treatment was a priority that definitely took precedence over Pax making sense of his first killing.

His first killing. He was a killer now. He had always known that it was very possible, even likely that he'd be put in the situation where he would need to take a life, but it was not the sort of thing you could truly prepare yourself for. And now that the barrier had been crossed…he didn't quite know how to feel. But he had no regrets, of that he was certain, and that took a good bit of the edge off the sting. He set thoughts of the sting aside as he transmitted a message to his destination. "Western Rodion Clinic, this is Officer Orion Pax, inbound with a patient on my rear section. Significant non-spark-threatening damage to the torso, and severe damage to the leg. Please have a table prepped and assistance removing him from my vehicular form would be appreciated."

"Good morning Lor…err, excuse me, old habits and fancy names," the voice of Minerva, a medical student who was interning at Ratchet's clinic, came through, "we'll be ready for you Officer Pax. What is your ETA?"

"Thank you Minerva, I'll be there in about ninety seconds." Pax replied. A minute and a half later he was pulling up to the front where a femme with coloration similar to Ratchet's was waiting for them. Pax stopped and Minerva stepped forward. "Not life-threatening, but be gentle nonetheless."

"Phew, highborns always assume we commoners don't know what we're supposed to be doing." The femme replied humorously as she delicately hoisted the patient off of the blue rear portion of the vehicle, allowing Orion to transform and help carry Ardulas inside.

"I was born in a cave." Orion replied, reaching down to lift up the patient and take him in himself, allowing Minerva to trot ahead and lead the way. The officer followed her through the uncharacteristically empty waiting room and into a small side room with a slab in the center, where he placed the patient. "Place seems desolate, are there any other patients?"

"Yeah, slow day for the most part." Minerva replied as she started looking at the patient's partially crushed and lacerated chest. "Ratchet is looking over the only other patient in the back. Severe beating; he's inducing shellshock in hopes of saving the patient's life."

"Inducing shellshock?" Pax muttered as he took a look at the patient's leg. "How would adding psychological trauma to physical trauma aid the patient?"

"No, not Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, the other shellshock." Minerva clarified. "Sometimes, when the physical trauma is so extensive and spark failure is imminent, particularly from a head wound, a patient can be transformed to their alternate mode to reduce the physical requirements of the patient and perhaps buy time. It can sometimes turn a fatality into a coma, and provided the damage to the brain module isn't too severe, there's a slight chance of recovery. Though the tiny fraction of those successful cases usually only result in a partial recovery, most usually are never able to leave their shell mode again. And unfortunately, this particular patient only has a shell mode, he was too poor to have any alterations to a vehicle, beast or anything else done, so even if he recovers to the point of being able to use his alt mode, he can do nothing but sit there."

"Primus, who did this to him?" Pax asked.

"Not sure." Minerva replied as she began patching up one of the lacerations on the patient's chest. "He was an empty, people think they don't matter and decide to unleash whatever frustrations, dark humor, or lust for violence upon them whenever they want. Based on the damage, it was multiple assailants."

"I'll have to keep my audio processors sharp for any noise regarding that." Pax muttered, knowing that there was little chance of finding the assailants.

"I've got this guy if you want to go back and see the victim." Minerva offered.

"Thanks, I'll take a look, but I'm more use right here for now." Pax replied.

"Really?" Minerva asked, seemingly confused, but adopted a faux display of realization before continuing. "Oh, that's right, the van is parked in back this time." She watched Pax closely as he raised his optics to her, trying futilely to hide the excitement on his face. "Ha, so it's mutual!"

"You have things in hand here, right?"

"Yup."

"Thanks." Pax smiled before turning and walking quickly down the hall, knocking gently on the door at the end before slowly entering. "Hello." Standing in front of him was Ratchet on one side of a table with a beat up shell resting on it, and a tall, unknown robot on the other side.

The unknown robot gave Orion a disapproving look. "Do you work here?"

"Volunteer." Ratchet muttered without looking up from his patient.

A broad smile came over the other robot's face. "Ahh, so this is the volunteer I've heard so much about?"

Orion peered at Ratchet looking for some indication on how to proceed, but the doctor remained fixated on his patient. The young officer returned his gaze to the unknown party and looked him over. About twenty-one feet tall, just a foot shorter than Orion, lean, impeccably maintained and polished, and a face that exuded both kindness and power. It was then that Orion felt a familiar tingle in his core, and knew that there was another person in the room. He smiled broadly and addressed the stranger. "And is this the Emir of Axiom that I've heard so much about?"

Exponum arched his optic brows and nodded to Ratchet. "He is a detective."

"You're a public figure, he just recognized you from a picture somewhere." Ratchet muttered dismissively as Orion stepped into the room and peered around the door, seeing a broadly grinning Elita Solus staring back at him.

"So it goes both ways…" Elita whispered as she gently touched her chest. "It's too bad I'll never be able to sneak up on you, but it does kind of make things…" her grin widened, "well,…, anyway, how are you?"

"Glad to see you." Orion replied, a broad grin on his face, but he turned and approached Exponum. "Emir Exponum One, it is an honor to meet you." He offered his hand, which Exponum took into his and shook.

"It's good to meet you as well, Lord Pax." He replied. "Chromia has been a welcome addition to our household, and she praises you daily."

"I'm no lord, sir, just a commoner that Torenia Pax took mercy upon." Orion grinned, sheepishly sending a glance to Elita as she walked over to stand next to Exponum. "And it's good to hear Chromia is getting along well in Hyperious."

"About time you got here kid, been waiting for you for hours. Something hold you up?" Ratchet muttered to Orion, interrupting the conversation.

The excited and pleasant look washed away from Orion as the memories of what happened earlier in the day came back to him. "Yeah, you could say that." The young officer's eyes dropped to the floor.

Even though he wasn't looking at him, Ratchet immediately knew something was wrong and raised his head to peer at Orion. They all saw the dark mood that had fallen over the young officer, eliciting looks of worry and confusion from the members of House Solus. Ratchet initially displayed a similar look, but he quickly realized what had happened and a look of compassionate understanding came over him. He stepped forward and placed his hand on Orion's shoulder. "We knew it was going to happen at some point. You're a cop in the worst city on the planet, of course it was going to happen."

"I know." Orion muttered before raising his gaze and forcing a smile. "I'm over it."

"No you're not, kid." Ratchet muttered.

"What is it?" Elita asked, almost insistently.

Orion looked at her worried face, then to Ratchet, who met his gaze and nodded supportively. "I was forced to kill in the line of duty this morning."

"By the Hand!" Elita gasped as she covered her mouth. She rushed forward and embraced him, but pulled back slightly to peer into his eyes. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Orion immediately insisted, gently shrugging off the hug.

"No you're not." Ratchet repeated. Orion sent him an annoyed look, but Ratchet stood his ground and continued. "Look kid, there were objections that went well beyond just your physical safety to you being assigned as a cop in Rodion. Hell, at your age you shouldn't be a cop anywhere. But in Rodion, you're bound to either kill or be killed, and nobody your age is equipped to deal with killing someone, no matter how justified you may be."

"Well I am!" Orion insisted, stepping back away from Ratchet and Elita. "Look, I appreciate the concern, I really do. And your worries aren't unfounded, I know. I admit, I'm shaken, this is hard to deal with, but I will get through it just fine."

"Orion, you need to talk this through." Ratchet pressed.

"No, I don't." Orion insisted. "I was justified. I know that if I had to do it all again, I wouldn't change anything. At some point my subconscious will realize this and it will all be put behind me."

"The mind isn't the slave to reason that we'd like it to be." Ratchet replied. "You have emotions, Lord Pax, you need to acknowledge that fact and deal with them."

"Don't call me…" Orion nodded and gave Ratchet an exasperated grin. "Ah, very clever, enhance your point about me having emotions by baiting me with the lord title."

"It worked, didn't it?" Ratchet asked.

"Yes, I have emotions, but do you really think I'll have difficulty coming to terms and moving on?" Orion shot back. "It's troubling, but I don't need help to get through it. It's just another challenge set before me, another challenge I'll overcome. That's what I do, I succeed. Have you ever known me to fail at anything?"

Ratchet's expression became stern. "Not until just now, when you failed to keep that ego of yours in check."

"Ratchet, stop it." Elita chimed in.

"No Elita, he's right." Orion calmly stated before looking at all three individuals and resting his gaze on Ratchet. "I apologize for how that came out, but I'm confident that I'll be able to handle this just fine."

"But Orion," Elita reached up and gently stroked his cheek, "you don't need to handle this on your own."

"No lad, there's absolutely no reason for you to deal with this on your own." Exponum added. "You and I just met, but I am more than willing to help you through this, as is Ratchet and I'm more than certain Elita would be there for whatever you need. And I don't think I need to mention the members of House Pax; particularly Torenia and Roller."

"No." Orion quickly but politely protested. "Please, Emir Solus, do not inform Torenia of this. I'd prefer not to trouble her with it.

"Trouble her with it?" Elita gasped disbelievingly. "Orion, she loves you. She's as much as your mother."

"She IS my mother, which is why I'd rather she not know; at least not yet." Orion responded. "And I'd like to be the one to bring this up to Roller."

"It'll probably be the first time he responds to you in a manner other than a good natured insult." Ratchet quipped, eliciting a smile from both Orion and Elita. He noted the grin on the femme. "I see you're familiar with Orion's goofball other half."

"Oh yes." Elita smirked. "It seems Orion has been calling me with a bit more frequency than he calls Torenia," she gave Orion a scolding look, one that elicited a sheepish grin, "so a good portion of my calls to Torenia tend to be updates on what Officer Pax is up to, which Roller has insisted on sitting in on and has provided many a commentary on what Officer Pax has done and said."

"Look, I appreciate all the offers of support, and perhaps at some point I may take each of you up on it, but for now I'd prefer to deal with this on my own." Orion stated. "I promise you, I will be OK."

Ratchet shrugged. "Well, as long as you know the offers are out there, that's all we can do." Elita gave him a look of disagreement, but Ratchet returned one of his own making it clear that they'd get no more traction on the subject at that time. "So anyway, I suppose you heard about this unfortunate case." He nodded toward the shell on the slab.

"Yes, Minerva gave me a brief rundown." Orion replied. "Basically a potential option to stave off death due to trauma to the brain module is to transform the patient to alternate mode?"

"More or less." Ratchet replied. "The requirements on the brain to regulate and operate our bodies are substantial, whereas in our shell modes those requirements are comparatively miniscule. It's by no means a cure-all; in fact, ninety-nine out of a hundred times the patient dies anyway, but sometimes it can help. Unfortunately, in the few cases where it's a viable option, the damage is so severe that the patient remains in alt mode for the remainder of their life, and only a portion of their cognitive functions ever return."

Orion studied the shell. "I'll do what I can to bring the assailants to justice." He asserted.

"Not any time soon I'm guessing." Ratchet replied. "It's standard procedure to put you on leave, right?"

"Yup." Orion answered. "Momus hasn't done anything official yet, but that is what's supposed to happen." A faint buzz was heard coming from Orion's wrist. "Speaking of which…" he brought his wrist to his mouth, "This is Officer Pax, go ahead." Orion listened as the individual on the other line relayed instructions to him. "I understand sir, but in light of what happened earlier, are you sure you want me to handle this?" Orion listened some more. "Yes sir, I'll report in with any findings. Pax out." A puzzled look came over Orion before he looked up to the others in the room. "Apparently we're deviating from standard procedure. I'm not on leave…at least not yet."

"They're giving you an assignment already, after what just happened?" Elita asked in disbelief.

"Apparently." Orion replied, reaching out to gently hold her hand, hesitating for a brief moment as he remembered Exponum One was there, but as he had already started the act, continued.

"You do know Momus is sending you into another trap, right?" Ratchet grumbled, allowing himself a slight smile at the small display of young romance and the cock in Exponum's eyebrow that was caused by it.

"Possibly. The events this morning…well, it was one of Overlord's goons, and took place in one of his facilities." Orion replied. "And Skullcruncher gave the impression that the big guy's patience with me had about run its course even before it all went south."

"Orion, don't go." Elita pleaded. "They'll kill you."

"Kid," Ratchet started consolingly, "my comment earlier about your ego; I tossed that out there not because you have one…you don't, hell, you're humility is pretty staggering all things considered. I said what I said to win an argument with you, which requires a dirty trick or two to pull off. It's not your ego, the simple fact is that you really are incredibly good at pretty much anything that's ever been put in front of you, to not notice that would be stupid. But while being a prodigy at damn near everything is usually a good thing, I am genuinely afraid that it's going to be your downfall. Failure is the greatest of teachers, but it has yet to teach you a lesson. It's going to, it's only a matter of time, and I just hope your first lesson in failing is something you can walk away from."

"What is it that they want you to do, lad?" Exponum One asked.

Orion looked at each of them before answering. "Word on the street is that a few days ago one of those fighting tournaments was held somewhere in or around Rodion. Apparently they had the event, packed up, moved on to Tarn, had their event there, and are going to hold another one in Rodion on their way back north. Momus wants me to follow up on some leads regarding it."

"Alone I presume?" Ratchet cynically grumbled.

Orion shrugged. "There's a lot of ground to cover, and I'm assuming Momus has the other officers doing other things." He watched Ratchet roll his optics and noted the look of fear on Elita's face. "I recognize the likelihood of this being a trap. I'll take precautions."

Ratchet shook his head. "Just promise me that once this trap has sprung, you'll be able to walk away from it."

Mindwipe

"Mindwipe…"

The voice returned, as it frequently did in his dreams. Subconsciously Mindwiped recognized he was dreaming, but this realization was subdued enough so that he remained slumbering. "Who calls?" He responded to the otherworldly voice.

"Those you would serve. The time is soon."

"We are not ready." Mindwipe replied to the voice as the blackness slowly gave way to shapes blurred by shadows created by small rivers of magma running through a vast cavern. The shapes, the vast legions of those he hoped to free, moved restlessly before him. He had been hearing the voices for decades, but this was the first time an image had presented itself. "We lack the force to free you. The army we are creating…it's not ready."

"We grow impatient. Our mutant servants that have been providing us sustenance are fading. Only a few dozen survive, and their sparks are unable to go on much longer."

"Please, just a little more time." Mindwipe begged. "You've held on for fifteen million years, surely a few more can be endured."

"You have had years; centuries! Our patience is at an end!" The voice barked out, the images, most appearing to be the size of standard Cybertronians with several giants lingered in the back, shuffled ominously. "Demons, sparkeaters, mutants; we are to be free! We are to spread our death across our world!"

"And you'll make me one of you?" Mindwipe begged.

"We reward only the faithful! Prove you can be counted in that number! Free us!"

With that command Mindwipe awoke on his slab in the barracks of the Tartarun Gates. He peered around at the dormant forms of his fellow Wardens, and decided to get up. The others, those he truly shared a mutual cause with, needed to know that their progress wasn't sufficient. He needed to contact Reptillion.

Rabattus Decimus

The darkly colored royal watched as Sentinel Prime paced furiously across the floor of his personal chamber, ignoring the goblet of engex as he gave into his agitation. Rabattus would not be so neglectful of his expensive drink, and swirled it gently in his goblet before raising it to his lips.

"The cowards lack the bearings to say anything to me directly, but their whispers do get back to me! I know what they're saying, what they're thinking!" Prime snarled. "Those petty little bitches, senators, lords, even the royals, all bitching about me taking decisive action that needs to be taken! Basically doing what a Prime needs to do to hold this group of squawking, bickering emirates together!"

Rabattus remained relaxed in his chair as he sent an understanding smile to his leader. "I understand your frustration, your grace, believe me, I've been here before. My beloved kinsman, friend…brother, Zeta Prime before you felt the same pricks from the same treacherous malcontents that assail you now. Smiling to his face, claiming friendship, and then stabbing him in the back later. It was his downfall really, there were times he was faced with difficult decisions, opposition coming at him, and from time to time he would knuckle under to that opposition, even knowing that his preferred course of action would have been the right course. All to appease those bitching senators, lords and royals."

Sentinel stopped in his tracks and stared at Rabattus for a moment, then taking a few steps to finally retrieve his own engex. "Odd, I always respected Zeta for his strength and ability to defy the wills of those who countered him."

Rabattus nodded. "Oh, there were times where he did stand strong, and he made a good show of it. The times he acquiesced flew under the radar, intentionally so. I'm not saying he was weak, he most definitely was not. But he had moments of doubt, and there were times when he questioned himself when he truly should not have, and that questioning often led to compromises." The dark royal polished off his drink and stood, approaching the hulking Prime, placing his hand on Sentinel's shoulder. "I loved Zeta, I miss him every day, and he was an excellent Prime, but he was not without flaw." Rabattus peered intently into Sentinel's optic. "Nor are you. You lack his charisma; not that you lack charisma, but Zeta was a brilliant public speaker."

"I am well aware of this." Sentinel replied, the hint of annoyance present in his voice.

"Nor are you as diplomatic as he was," Rabattus continued, "but that's not necessarily a bad thing. His diplomacy stemmed in part from his desire to please everyone, and that's just not a viable aspiration as you and I both know." The dark royal removed his hand, turned and took a few steps away. "Your directness stems from strength. I'm not saying that you should block out the suggestions, desires and opinions of others, but always remember that you are Prime, and that there's a very valid reason you are Prime. You're a royal, raised in the most influential ruling house on the planet, mentored by the greatest of us, provided the most comprehensive of educations. You've also spent millennia heading the security of the planet, administering over the lowest beat cop to the highest of military generals. You've gotten your hands dirty, dealt with the commoners harshly, mercifully and everywhere in between as was appropriate. More than anyone else on the planet, you've got experience with all walks of life. What senator, lord or emir has such experiences on their resume?" Rabattus turned and looked directly into the optics of Prime.

Prime nodded. "None."

"That's right." Rabattus pressed. "There's a reason you're Prime. Thank Primus you're Prime! Arlon Pax and the others can complain about dangerous reassignments to their pet commoners, secret trials, hasty death sentences issued to prisoners, and deviating from due process all they want; they do not carry the weight of the planet on their shoulders, only their isolated, homogenous emirates. And frankly, from one member of a ruling house to another, we both know that within our own borders we follow due process loosely at best. Pax and whoever else is daring to protest your recent actions are nothing more than vile hypocrites."

Sentinel peered into Rabattus's optics. "So I should ignore these protests?"

Rabattus turned his head, as if thinking deeply on the matter, before turning and walking back to his abandoned goblet to refill it. "Yes and no. Your handling of the Autobots is correct and just. They need to be executed, their movement needs to be squashed. But you should not simply ignore the protests as if they do not exist. Address them, explain to those voicing them that what you're doing is what's best. They will remain unconvinced, but simply know that going in and do not let it sway your decision. Give them the impression that their words carry weight with you, but ultimately, do what you know needs to be done; do it decisively, and do it quickly."

Sentinel pondered the words quietly for over a minute, his head twisting slowly toward the wall-sized window overlooking Iacon. He took in the vast metropolis, knowing that while it was the greatest of cities, it was only one of the many that he ruled over around the planet. He was responsible for the lives and wellbeing of tens of millions of Cybertronians. He was their shepherd, their protector, their guide…their father. He winced at the thought of the last word, and organic familial term adopted by many of his kind. Why terms for inferior life forms were working their way into his species relationship lexicon would always confound him. But he was the leader of all Cybertronians, and even when they couldn't recognize it, he was acting in their best interests. "Thank you my friend. I've come to value your council above all others."

"It is nothing short of an honor for me to be able to serve you." Rabattus bowed as he replied. "I hope that in time your faith in me mirrors the faith Zeta had in me."

Sideswipe

"What the hell are we doing here?" Sideswipe quietly asked his brother as they peered out from the second floor window of an abandoned building in the outskirts of Rodion. "We're hooligans, not thugs."

"There's a difference?" Sunstreaker responded equally quiet.

"Hooligans fight to fight. Thugs fight for some sort of criminal gain." Sideswipe replied, but clammed up as they felt their employer approaching from behind them.

"You boys aren't getting nervous, are you?" Swindle questioned half-jokingly as he sidled up between them.

"Not really nervous, sir, just…confused." Sideswipe replied. "You usually bring Raw Deal and Fisticuff out on these little endeavors, not us."

"And what do you know about these little endeavors?" Swindle asked.

"They're your criminal dealings outside of your involvement in the gladiatorial pits," Sunstreaker muttered, "where you take an exorbitant percentage of the purses the fighters you represent get."

Swindle turned his head to give Sunstreaker a glare. "Ignore him." Sideswipe suggested as he continued staring straight out into the debris-filled lot on the other side of the empty, ill-maintained road that ran in front of the building. "The last part anyway. But he's right otherwise; you usually bring the other guys out to do your gangster shit."

"Does this have something to do with them?" Sunstreaker nodded toward the massive gladiators farther back in the empty expanse.

Swindle turned and looked at Megatron and the towering Lugnut. "Perhaps." The tan and purple robot turned back to them. "Maybe what you boys had to say last night got his attention, and he might be considering you for something. Maybe this is some sort of test."

Sideswipe glared almost angrily at Swindle. "We're sitting here, waiting for some local cop to show up, apparently to see if we're worthy of something or other." The red gladiator shook his head. "I'm pretty sure I'm not going to be OK with whatever this test is."

Swindle leaned in close, pulling the two brother's closer to him as he whispered. "Look, I get it, even I get a little queasy when I have to kill a cop. But I'm thinking that's not the direction we're taking. I overheard Megatron mutter something about 'recruiting', so we may just be here to be lookouts and to help him look tough."

Sunstreaker glanced over toward the two larger robots. "Yeah, they really need us to look tough."

"Numbers you jackass!" Swindle slapped the back of Sunstreaker's immaculate head.

"He's got his own 'numbers'." Sideswipe whispered back. "Between Macht goons there to follow his orders, the majority of gladiators in the pits, and what appeared to be an entourage that included a few nobles, he really doesn't need us. Speaking of which, you do realize that that big mook Lugnut is a member of a noble house in the Torus Heights, right?"

"I know all about Lugnut, and as I said, it's a test for you two…and me as well I suppose." Swindle replied. "Two birds with one stone, get it?"

"Is that the mark?" Sunstreaker asked, nodding out the window as a red and blue freight hauler slowed to a stop, transformed, and the robot walked into the abandoned lot across the road.

"Let's find out." Swindle answered before turning around toward Megatron. "I think he's here."

Megatron and Lugnut walked forward toward the window, Lugnut having to stoop low to see out of it. "Yeah, that's him alright." Lugnut muttered, and Megatron stepped closer to better get a look at this police officer. "That common-born slag the Pax's are keen on adopting. Oh, uh, no offense."

"Let's see if he figures it out." Megatron suggested as they watched, ignoring Lugnut's insult of commoners. They observed the red and blue robot scan the area, look intently at various things, they even had to clear away from the window several times as he turned toward the building, studying the area around him. After fifteen minutes he began scrutinizing several of the blocks of debris littering the site carefully. "There's no way…" Megatron's musing was silenced as the officer lifted two pieces and figured out how to connect them.

"Impossible." Sunstreaker muttered.

"Impressive." Megatron followed. "It's time we introduced ourselves." Moments later they were on the ground floor walking out through the front door. The police officer caught sight of them immediately but merely watched calmly as they approached him. "Greetings Officer Pax."

"Good afternoon." Orion Pax replied, nodding toward Lugnut. "Him I know, who are the rest of you?"

"Show some respe…" Lugnut started, but stopped as Megatron raised his hand to silence him.

The group continued walking toward the officer before stopping forty feet from him. Megatron smiled at Orion and responded. "I am Megatron of Tarn. This is Swindle of…Petrex, right?" Megatron noted Swindle's nod before continuing. "And these are Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, originally of Iacon."

Orion Pax looked them all over appraisingly, and then addressed them, starting with the brothers. "You two are suspected Autobots, and were initially suspected of having a hand in the assassination of Zeta Prime." Megatron glanced at them questioningly, smiling and nodding as though he was impressed before looking back at Orion, who was now addressing Swindle. "You have rap sheets in numerous emirates, the most extensive one in Ankmor. Your criminal organization in Petrex is fairly substantial." Pax then looked to Megatron. "And you, a person can't go anywhere in Polyhex these days without hearing whispers of the unstoppable Megatron."

"Impressive." Megatron replied. "It's an essential, but unfortunately rare trait for a Polyhexian law officer to be so well versed in criminal activity so far outside his jurisdiction."

Orion met Megatron's stare. "If the rumors are true, I hold jurisdiction over many of your crimes, Megatron of Tarn."

"Good." Megatron nodded approvingly. "Never back down to intimidation, at least as long as pretending to be scared isn't part of a greater plan."

"I know feinting, playing possum and other forms of deception are used in the pits," Orion replied, "but an elaborate fear hoax seems a bit much for a fistfight."

Megatron smiled. "Yes, it is. My aspirations extend well beyond the pits, and I'm thinking those aspirations might involve you in some way." Orion stared at him for a moment before looking down and giving in to a light chuckle. "You find this humorous?"

"I do." Orion answered, looking back up and locking optics with Megatron. "You're not the first criminal to try and recruit me."

Megatron nodded. "Yes, I assumed that the Overlord's motivation for not killing you was the same as my own. But my vision is not some underworld criminal empire for my own material gain. Oh, it will indeed be deemed illegal by the current laws of the land, but what I'm envisioning is a moral and ethical quest to improve this society in which we live. And unlike Overlord, my aspirations are things you and I share."

Orion continued staring at Megatron, a cynical look that seemed to run counter to the youthful features of his face was etched heavily on it. "I severely doubt that one who murders in the pits shares goals with me."

Megatron smirked. "I killed in the line of duty; something that I hear you can now relate to." The gladiator watched Orion's optics harden and held up his hands in an attempt to diffuse the situation. "Look, I'm confronting you in hopes of finding common ground and building both a professional relationship as well as a friendship. The gladiator pits are merely a staging point, a way for me to acquire resources, to come into contact with those who can help me facilitate my vision, and to travel the planet to find like-minded individuals."

Orion maintained his stare, but finally decided to get to the point. "Alright, tell me of this grand vision you think you and I share."

Megatron nodded. "I wish to wash away the established pecking order. To eliminate the royalty, the nobility, and any other notion of superiority derived from birth location." The chrome gladiator smiled as he noticed Orion's optics widen and the young officer appear to grow in excitement.

Orion looked to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker and nodded before turning his gaze back to Megatron. "So you share philosophies with the Autobots?"

Megatron shrugged and twisted his head before answering. "Some philosophies, yes, but we do deviate in many areas."

"Such as?"

Megatron stared at Orion for a moment before continuing. "The notion that all are equal. While I agree that the worth of an individual should have nothing to do with the circumstances of their birth, we are all not of equal worth, and it's absurd to treat us as though were are."

Orion shook his head. "No, I disagree. Yes, we all have varying aptitudes and abilities, but from the standpoint of our innate worth, we are all of equal value. That doesn't mean that I feel those that excel should not benefit from that excellence in certain areas, but from a legal standpoint, they should be treated no better or worse than an individual of lesser abilities."

"Our achievements as a society would soar were we not mired down by the needs of the sub-mediocre." Megatron stated. "The society the Autobots espouse would have the pace set by the slow."

"No, you're wrong." Orion replied. "The society the Autobots espouse would be one of compromise and compassion. True, we would be forced to slow down from time to time, but is that truly a terrible thing? There would be avenues and incentives for the exceptional, progress would be every bit as significant as that of your society, it would just possess a sense of social justice."

"The weak, the stupid, the slow, the useless; they consume so very much and contribute nothing." Megatron authoritatively stated. "I thought those in the Torus Heights were taught to revere nature. In nature these elements are culled for elimination, the herd is thinned, so that only the worthy can carry on and pass on their genetic traits."

"That's the society you envision, survival of the fittest?" Orion asked angrily.

"Yes." Megatron replied almost lustfully, but his face and voice took a softer tone as he continued. "More or less anyway. I'm not advocating execution for those on the top portion of the bell curve by any means, and by strength I'm not suggesting worth be based on literal strength. I mean, it's an advantageous trait, but one that is easily trumped by other forms of usefulness."

"Enough!" Orion waved him off. "You're suggesting the removal of one form of elitism for another."

"Yes, but the elitism I champion is for those that truly are elite!" Megatron growled. "Those who demonstrate actual worth, those that can advance or benefit society as a whole."

"You must realize that what you're suggesting is how most organized societies get their start." Orion countered. "Those that are strongest, or most equipped to lead for whatever reason, create a society from nothing, or replace an existing one. The monarch is chosen based on this strength, but over time those that succeed the monarch are chosen for other, less viable reasons. This idealized society organized by and for the seemingly most fit gets corrupted. Corrupted by nepotism, resource inequity, personal interest, and often times, unethical or even illegal means. I don't necessarily doubt that the Knights of Cybertron were the most fit to lead, but the utopia they supposedly created got corrupted. If you succeed, I have no doubt yours will as well."

"Fair point." Megatron smiled. "I guess I'll just have to take measures to prevent that."

"And what of those that don't demonstrate their worth to you?" Orion asked. "Those on the lower left slope of the bell curve, what becomes of them?"

Megatron met Orion's intense gaze. "You used the term utopia, not me. I never claimed the society I envision will be a paradise. Tough decisions will need to be made."

"You'll kill them?" Orion stared in disbelief. Unseen by the others, Sideswipe sent Sunstreaker a nervous glance. The yellow sibling pretended not to notice his brother's anxiety, but he knew…even he was undoubtedly feeling a little himself. "And you sit there, and rationalize it, and make it sound as neat and reasonable as garbage collection, sanitation or any other civic duty. But you're championing murder; murder in the millions…the tens of millions! Even Sentinel Prime would never make such a suggestion."

"Society would be better off…"

"You think making a statistical case for cutting head-count justifies mass murder?" An enraged Orion interrupted.

"YES!" Megatron roared, the outburst startling everyone present and causing Sideswipe to send his brother another nervous glance, one that this time was met with a look of revulsion from Sunstreaker.

"Whoah, hey there, let's all just settle down." Swindle stepped in to quell things a bit. "From what Megatron and Lugnut have said about you, you'd definitely thrive in Megatron's world. What's your issue?"

"So because I would be personally benefitted by a clearly unjust philosophy, I should support it?" Orion snapped. "I have an invitation to join House Pax in fourteen years, by your logic I should tell Megatron to slag off and happily embrace the status quo."

"You must know that's not an option." A much calmer but still agitated Megatron stated. "You do realize we didn't happen upon each other by chance." It wasn't a question, they were all aware of what this situation was. "You've been marked for death, but you already know this." Orion nodded. "I was ordered, by an emir no less, to kill you, and I know that this particular emir has no personal interest in you whatsoever, which tells me that someone above him ordered your death. There's only one person on the planet in a position to order an emir to do anything." Megatron gave Orion a look of compassion as he continued. "There's only one way to escape such a fate, and that's with me."

Orion knew that Sentinel Prime had it out for him, he knew that he was being put into situations designed to get him killed, but hearing it stated had a sobering effect. The leader of the planet, the most powerful being he was aware of, not only wanted him dead, but was orchestrating his murder. Fear, true hopelessness, entered Orion Pax for the first time in his life. He allowed himself to sink into the hopelessness for nearly a minute before forcing himself back to the surface. He wasn't dead yet, and while he still lived, there was hope. He looked back up at those standing before him, and saw Megatron, the hulking, heavily armored and enhanced gladiatorial legend, standing before him with his hand outstretched in invitation.

"Join us Orion." Megatron earnestly suggested.

"I…" Orion looked down as he paused, thought a bit, and looked back up, "I can't. I appreciate the offer, but there's no way that I could ever join you. Some of your ideas are good, some of your points are valid, but what you suggest, what you mean to do; I'm sorry, but I would sooner die than be a part of that. I would sooner die than not oppose that."

Megatron's outstretched fingers curled back and his hand returned to his side. "I truly wish that wasn't the case. I've read about you, I've learned all I can, and I exaggerate not when I tell you that I see you at my right hand. I see you as my equal. We should be side by side."

"My place is in front of you." Orion replied. "Forever keeping you from achieving the evil you hope to achieve."

"You know that you're leaving me with only one option?"

"Yes."

"You must also realize that you're significantly outclassed." Megatron stated. "I realize that you're a virtually unparalleled athlete; I was given a copy of your initial physical testing results, and," the gladiator paused, "they pretty much mirrored my own. But I've been enhanced, I've been immersed in martial arts training and actual combat with the most dangerous warriors on the planet,"

"And you have a numerical advantage." Orion interrupted. "I'm used to being outclassed, just ask Lugnut."

"You're lucky Ironhide showed up when he did, punk!" Lugnut roared.

Orion met his glare. "We both know that there was no way you were ever going to beat me, and had Ironhide not shown up, the only thing that would have kept me from pummeling you would have been my newborn uncertainty and compassion." Orion looked back down at Megatron. "I'm not a newborn anymore."

Megatron met his gaze. "You need not worry about my numerical advantage, at least, not once this has been done." Swindle drew a rifle than had been magnetically holstered to his back and pointed it at Orion. "Swindle here will relieve you of your firearm." Swindle stepped forward, rifle pointed at Orion's head. The officer carefully withdrew his ion rifle and held it out for the criminal to take. Swindle backed up to where he was before and looked up to Megatron, who turned his head to give his companions a sideways glance. "Slag off." With that the collection of criminals and gladiators backed up a couple dozen paces. Megatron turned back to Orion. "I'm tempted to ask you once again to join me, but that would be nothing more than an insult, so I won't. Know that I have no desire to do this."

"I'll be sure to put that in the arrest report." Orion replied right before getting his left arm up to block the massive right roundhouse. The initial punch was immediately followed by a left roundhouse, that was also blocked but the power of it sent Orion stumbling back. He was strong. Stronger than Lugnut. As strong as Overlord. This could go badly.

Megatron marched in a circle pattern around Orion, studying him. "You have good reflexes. Sometimes individuals test well, but when it comes to actual combat they aren't as fast as billed. Good to see you're as fast as me." Megatron charged in, but was immediately halted by a left jab he didn't see coming followed by a right roundhouse he couldn't react to because of the jab. The combination staggered him, and sent him stumbling back.

"I'm faster than you." Orion stated. "Perhaps initially you and I were the same, but after getting all that armor, I've got you on speed. If it's any consolation, you're a hair faster than Overlord."

Megatron grinned as he straightened up. "Good to know." He continued forward and began circling Orion once again. "You're right about the armor, it has slowed me down a fraction, but it has its benefits. For one, it's made me bigger." Megatron demonstrated his superior reach with some jabs that kept Orion back. "I'm guessing you're about twenty-two feet tall? That's about what I was pre-armor, and a similar frame. I'm two feet taller now, and a hell of a lot thicker. I've never really been one to crave the attention of femmes, but I can't help but notice I'm getting a lot more attention now."

"Already got a girl." Orion said as he swatted aside a jab and stepped in to deliver one of his own, which Megatron evaded and they resumed their circling. "Doubt she'll be impressed if I got some armor."

"It's more than just armor." Megatron replied as he charged in, battering through Pax's punches and blocks to slam his fist into his chest and then grab him and fling him to the ground. "It's presses too." Megatron gloated over the downed officer. "The presses enhanced my strength by a little over 5 percent."

Orion was immediately back on his feet. "Interesting. Let's see how much extra endurance that armor provides you." With that Orion charged in, slipped past a defensive jab of Megatron's and delivered a flurry of punches to Megatron's mid-section, immediately followed by an uppercut that sent Megatron flying back and crashing to the ground. Megatron's head snapped back up to deliver a glare to Orion. He then looked down to see a half dozen dents on his frame. "It's impressive, but you're hardly impervious."

"Playtime's over, Pax." Megatron snarled as he got back to his feet, and Orion nodded, his face taking on a look of equal anger and intensity. The two collided in a flurry of fists, knees, elbows and foreheads. A flurry of grappling holds and short range strikes melded into one another, the two healthy, handsome and well-maintained frames were quickly becoming battered-looking wrecks as they pummeled away at one another.

Sideswipe marveled at the fight. It was astounding how they were going at one another. He had seen footage of every pit fight Megatron had been in, and this was the first time he had witnessed the super warrior ever cut loose; it was the first time he had ever been tested. "This is the greatest fight I've ever seen." Sideswipe heard his brother mutter, and could only nod in reply.

The fight raged for over fifteen minutes, extremely even for every second of that time. But now differences were starting to show. Throughout most of the fight Orion would land maybe one more strike than Megatron with each barrage, but each of Megatron's strikes were heavier, and he was weathering the damage better than the police officer. By minute twenty it was clear that Orion had sustained more damage. He was still battering away and defending well, and the damage to Megatron was beyond significant, but the fight was taking a greater toll on the unenhanced police officer.

"Yield, and join me." Megatron demanded. "We should be doing this to the royalty, not each other."

"This is my chance to stop you before you have a chance to enact your genocidal ambitions." Orion spat. "You yield, and be taken into custody!"

"Slagging idiot!" Megatron charged and began battering the slightly smaller northerner. Orion battered back, but he had slowed to the point where he didn't see a monstrous overhand right come down on his temple, sending him to the ground. Orion started to force himself up, but a kick to the face sent him back down. Megatron reared back for another kick, but Orion rolled, then braced, then immediately shot up delivering an uppercut to Megatron's crotch plate. He almost simultaneously threw a left roundhouse that caught Megatron's chin, sending the gladiator to the ground.

Orion sprung on top of Megatron, and was instantly hammering down on his head. Sideswipe could see Megatron's optics dimming, and was suddenly optimistic about Orion's chance of victory. He knew he had arrived with Megatron, and was working for him, but after hearing the lengths the gladiator planned to go in his vision of a new world, he couldn't help but be repulsed. And this Officer Pax, while apparently some sort of noble, and having played a major role in capturing several of his comrades, appeared to have adopted the ideals of the Autobots, a group that Sideswipe was still, for the most part, loyal to.

So seeing Orion on the cusp of winning was a major source of relief. The thunderous straight right that erupted from Megatron to knock Orion off of him and back to the ground caused feelings of dismay to assert themselves. Megatron snapped back up and delivered a sweeping crescent kick that connected against Orion's jaw, sending him to the ground, barely moving. Megatron leapt onto him and began throwing punches, but he was slowed, the damage of Orion's previous assault was substantial, but he remained on top, hammering down on Orion until the police officer's movements ceased.

Megatron, exhausted, beaten, worn, looked down at his unmoving target. "Good-bye Orion Pax, you were my greatest opponent."

"You won, congratulations." An unknown voice stated authoritatively from behind Megatron's entourage. "Now get off him!"

They all turned to see a robot, one containing enough uncorrected wear and tear to make it clear he was older. Megatron struggled to turn, and at seeing the uninvited guest through his battered and cracked optics, smiled and started chuckling lightly through the pain. "Terminus, my old friend, how good it is to see you."

"Get off of him!" Terminus repeated his order.

"Hey Megatron, you want me to pummel this guy through the surface?" Lugnut grumbled as he took a threatening step toward Terminus.

"You do not give me orders, old man." Megatron growled, ignoring Lugnut's question.

"He's a good and noble man, an officer of the law, and I think it's safe to say, an opponent worthy of respect." Terminus replied, marching past Lugnut but stopping where the other three were. "I'm not sure if this was to prove something, if he was a threat to the tournament tonight, or what, but I will not let you kill him."

"Our relationship is officially at an end, Terminus." Megatron snarled. "Lugnut, do not hurt him, but get him away from here. Swindle, help him out, Terminus is a tough old coot."

"You heard him boys." Swindle muttered as he nudged Sideswipe to follow him. Sideswipe stared down at the unconscious and soon to be dead Orion Pax. He couldn't let this pass. Sideswipe looked down at the two rifles in Swindle's hands, and reached out for the ion rifle that had been Orion's. "Hey, what the…" Sideswipe yanked the rifle and delivered a head-butt to the bridge of Swindle's nose, getting possession of the rifle and sending the criminal to the ground.

"What the slag are you doing?" Sunstreaker yelled as he watched Sideswipe stomp on Swindle's head and take the other rifle. Sideswipe looked to Sunstreaker before tossing the other rifle.

"I'm doing this." Sideswipe asked, pointing the ion rifle at Lugnut's legs and opening fire. Lugnut collapsed, screaming out in pain. "Are you with me?"

Sunstreaker whirled around to cover the still kneeling Megatron with his rifle. "You stupid asshole! What the hell are you thinking?"

"We're not going to be a part of some kill squad!" Sideswipe growled back as he bent over the dazed but still conscious Swindle and drove the butt of the ion rifle into his face, knocking him out.

"Oh screw you, you self-righteous shit!" Sunstreaker yelled. "It'd be the ugly, stupid, misshapen and slow twats. Who cares?"

"You stupid dick, Megatron isn't talking about you having a better domicile than every weakling with a two-digit IQ," Sideswipe growled as he marched toward Megatron, who was slowly forcing himself to a standing position, "he wants us to slagging murder them!" Sideswipe stopped before Megatron and looked up into his red optics. "And I can't let you kill this guy. Sorry boss, I quit." Megatron opened his mouth to say something, but four rounds tearing into his leg from Sunstreaker's rifle kept his words from coming out. He collapsed back to the ground.

"Take Officer Pax and leave now." Terminus said as he slowly approached the siblings. "If you attack Megatron any further, you'll have to contend with me."

Sunstreaker gave the old man a of look humorous disbelief before pointing the weapon at him. "Sunstreaker, no." Sideswipe said. "He's right; we need to get Pax out of here."

"Oh, and go where?" Sunstreaker snapped.

Sideswipe shrugged. "I think I remember hearing about a couple of Autobot cells in Polyhex. I could probably sniff one out." With that Sideswipe tossed the ion rifle to Sunstreaker and transformed. "Mount him on me, make sure he's secure, and let's head out."

"You just slaggin' killed us, you know?" Sunstreaker snarled at his brother, but walked over to Orion Pax, locking optics with Megatron as he passed. Megatron remained silent, glaring at the yellow robot as he hoisted Orion onto the red street racer and secured him as best he could, wedging the rifles in there as well before transforming himself. The two street racers sped off, and Megatron's heated gaze shifted away from them and locked onto Terminus.