It's a late one guys! :D
No real rhyme or reason to when I post these chapters, but,
What the heck! :3
Things are picking up a bit, and I'm certainly enjoying what's developing.
I hope you guys find this chapter amusing XD
Enjoy!
Chapter 3
The Never Simple Truth
~Error: relay processes failure in vital mechanisms resulting in automatic attempt in recovery softwares. Processing...processing...link has failed in recovery softwares, corrupted connection via vital relay programming. Central Processing Unit crashing...scanning memory core, saving memory core...failure in recovery...no solution found. Circuit abilities disabled, venting failures, energy levels depleting at an exponential rate, vocal processes crippled, spark signature rapidly wavering in unsteady patter...if continued, inevitable spark stall eminent. Researching possible adjacent recovery programs...researching...researching.~
A fool, anyone in particular, ignorant enough to allow themselves prey to the vulture of what was their life cycle neither deserved strength nor to take occupancy as a Gladiator. This, along with the facts of bodily preparation over a length of vorns, could, and would, partake in the selection process in the champion. Femme or mech, either is eligible, without discrimination in suffrage of the Kaonian Gladiatorial Council. They who deemed able of the leadership in the pits shall, and will, obtain full sovereignty concerning any mercy pleas made of the combatant or their opponent.
Any and all who show weakness shall be struck down, in punishment or enlistment. Let this be the will of Primus, so help those already aligned with the AllSpark.
24,691 Vorns, 14 quartexes, 2 groons earlier:
Screaming, hollow bellows reached from eastern ends to west, blanketing the arena in chilling echos. Roaring waves of voices savagely called out their approval of the events before them, thrashing limbs and flashing things in excitement. Sparks pounded along with the beating of the stands - as if the pulse of Primus himself were beating oh so clearly beneath the metallic crust. Blaring rays of a star's caress shamelessly beat down upon the gathered in a continuous raging heat and blinding intensity. Confusing, disorienting visions swam in the nearly invisible waves, distorting the air and causing the strips of white splashed amidst the pooling azure energon to become beacons of incredible vividness.
Harsh courses of energized wind flowed carelessly rough through stressed vents, their systems whirring and vibrating. A sense of high overtook anything and everything, creating a want of recklessness and a lust for the life of their adversary. Growls and snarls tore as a scalding blade against the thick of the atmosphere, followed with resounding clashes and colliding that only enticed the woops and howls of the crowd further. Hunger danced in each gaze, spectator and participator, wanting the thrill of battle and the primitive drive of waging ones own life.
Deep green clashing, banging, melding with that of a slick silver, the masses so caught with the threatening venom spat between the dancing forms in the scarred field that they dare only encourage the two further.
I kissed her.
An enraged wrath solidified into a storm-grey frame whirled and struck down with powerful, overwhelming force. Total brutality erupted from one mech to the other, turning to low screeches and grunts as weapons thrust or batted. Green flashed forward, using brute mass as a battering ram to launch the wisp of grey and cerulean optics. But not before landing down, there was the mech again, moving on wicked peds to send their champion to the wall, pinned at the throat.
I kissed her...and she kissed back.
Struggling - of the most buried habits of survival. Blue trickled thickly over armor bore for the fighters, the hide so thick it appeared impenetrable. Tears made from the precious liquefied energy of the Cybertronians beaded off the dominant one's sight, down their concaving cheekplate, over the cracked sheets of their chassis, only to mix with that of the wound of their tanks that already continued to spill their life out across their ground. Claws dug deep into the vulnerable joints of their digits, making them squirm and grumble with affliction.
Why did I...why did I do that? Why was that my only reaction to her? And why...why can I not stop thinking only of her?
A lasting effort crossed their processor, sending the message over their fluttering and twitching limbs to end at their gore-stained servos gripped around the ones at their throat. Only distraction came from the profile of the femme dancing behind the gladiator's optic slips. Only death came from distraction. But through the influenced anger came a series of charges pushing on the fight to see another orn, and from it, came a fusion cannon charged a burning scarlet in the blank range of the enemy. Shock placed upon their features, and yet they could do nothing in time before a projectile launched from the mech's arm and flung him along the floor of the arena.
A streak of glowing blue followed them as a dotted tail, turning into streaking smudges as they slid over the surface of the ground. They rolled and slid, flinging limply around as a ragdoll would have done. And the grey wind started forward after them, coming down on the helpless form with a waning strength and a vicious will to keep on living. Their sword struck down, missing by a vent, before their opponent recovered and punched their faceplates, sending them back on their spinal support.
If I die here...if this is where I deadspark...how am I to see her again? To demand she tell me why I think only of her? To seize her token of affection before the medic Ratchet will?
The figure loomed over the prone champion, raising above to give the final hit. But a pause. A single, fatal pause of uncertainty in those still-sane optics. They were still the same being as the champion, and yet they couldn't find it in themselves to commit to kill for their own survival. That was what would get them killed.
The champion, brighter in his recognition of what was happening, shot up and took the one before him out at the kneebolts. A hulking figure, they came down with an enormous crash, for their frame was far heavier and wider than that of the champion's. They fell, and he rose, his sword appearing beneath the cannon mounted on his arm to stall the tip by their adversary's exposed neck. He could not feel. He wasn't able to feel if he was to live on. He could not allow himself to have doubt in his spark if he wanted to approval of the Gladiatorial Council. And thus, his name was called:
"Megatronus!"
Loud and clear, singing above that of the near crazed crowd seated in the seemingly boundless bowl of flickering dots of color. Femme and mech alike died down to turn their helms, along with the gladiator, to face the ones lounging amid the luxurious benches under the adorned roof. Their armor shone in almost all gold, small jewels found on neighboring planets encrusting the lavish crests of each headdress. All mechs, the only femmes stationed there were but green-sighted slaves and slinking consorts wrapped around the spoiled limbs of their masters.
Their leader, the said king of his gladiators, stood from the hot pink femme at his arm, her frame type and facial markings that of a senior-class consort. He himself bore the ruby optics of the warrior class, his faceplates marred in a deep frown. Hard, unforgiving optics stabbed avidly down upon the two taking part in his games, their edges narrowing. A staff in servo, his digits curled until the shaft shook. A simple step from his throne, above the others, lead to by a personal staircase, caused his complex and incredibly expensive armoring to ripple around him to make it appear as though he were a moving liquid. The star's light bounced off of him in blinding rays as he stepped into the light. A single arm raised, the thumb link aimed horizontally.
"Shall our champion grant mercy upon his opponent? Or," the resounding voice of Nightjade, the pit's sole leader, aroused the beast within the crowd when they replied with angered 'boos' and 'no', "shall he place death on his opponent?"
The reaction was instantaneous. The answer to Nightjade's question was but a deafening swell of chanting Cybertronians thirsty for the sight of one mech's death. Megatronus felt his spark growing energized with their unforgiving thrall, their stimulating courage putting his own feelings at bay for the sole purpose of life after the pits. Red optics turned down on him, heavy and full of cruel anticipation. The thumb link that aimed for east now pivoted down to south, the sentence made.
The gathered screamed ever impossibly louder with this ruling, while Megatronus' own reaction was not to be seen by his Pit Master, or those spectating his match. One in particular would only receive his true disgust by these primitive Cybertronians simply wishing to see their own murdered over and over for sport. And he faced them now, staring downward on the form of the dark green mech who rested on his servos and kneebolts, his frame shaking. Was it fright?
Megatronus clenched his fist, holding in his qualms and delaying any sense of feeling as he lifted the shining silver high. "May you rest with Primus, in his grasp. Your spark be joined in his so help the AllSpark, and-"
"P-please, please spare me. I don't want to die..."
The unsteady, choked words of the mech caused Megatronus to pause, his arm raised and his motors ready to land the last blow. The devastated faceplates aimed upward at Megatronus, begging for another chance. In that moment, Euphoria took the place of the mech, and the champion seriously questioned his willingness to end this. He was having harder and harder time convincing himself to strike, and the crowd was becoming impatient. But, and Megatronus tried showing it through his optics, there was only one who could leave here, or they were both to die by way of the arena traps. Surely this mech understood what he was getting into when he enrolled in this? Surely he knew he was to face the champion?
Megatronus gathered himself and regained his composure, his mask of indifference making the mech's optics widen in horror. "Your spark be joined with his, so help the AllSpark, and make way into life after death glorious and infinite, past the grief of mortality, with freedom from suffering. By the will of Primus, I free you of this life and your cast of iron prison into Primus' awaiting arms. Until all are one."
And he swiftly brought down his arm.
A sharp protest was cut short as the mech's helm separated from his body, landing with a clank by Megatronus' starkly grey peds before swaying and then going still. The optics of white they once held were now black, their lip plates slack and their detached body slumped. Energon poured from the severed limb, washing over their frame as a new coat of paint, their frame sinking to the ground without the grace of a living being. Their chassis twitched a few lasting times as their spark fought to stay alight, but alas, it had to fade within the click. And finally, Megatronus stood back from the still Cybertronian to whip around and start for the exit, which now slowly cranked open.
The only regret Megatronus always kept when leaving his battles was that he never, ever, learned the name of the ones he'd killed.
It wasn't a planned occurrence, and Megatronus certainly hadn't aimed to have audience with Euphoria in the Helix Gardens to attempt courting her. However, as their meeting had drawn on and their frames grew ever closer from Euphoria checking his injuries and spark, Megatronus found her beauty in the silvery light of the orbiting moons too great to ignore. And she hadn't hinted any resistance as their lip plates met. Therein, they found themselves, with Megatronus seated on the edge of the fountain, Euphoria caught in one servo as he held their helms close in their kiss. The warmth and energy had been too much to separate before a click, their humming frames burning with a new feeling Megatronus had yet to explain. Even now, he grew uneasy and excited from the memory of her so close, her frame melting into his.
That moment of their lip plates touching, the soaring energy of their frames and the disturbing discomfort that came with her sudden separation. It all sent such tremors through Megatronus' core that he doubted his sanity was to stay in tact much longer. Orian couldn't know of this, for he certainly could never keep this information from Sentinel. Thus, Megatronus would be further shunned by his mentor. Though he highly sought no approval from the ridiculous figure, he didn't wish for more tension to ruin his orns.
But what was he to do about Euphoria? Standing in the Hall of Records, a compad in his servo, Megatronus remained with his digits hovering over the screen, the stylus in his grasp. He couldn't decide what to write or if there was a single holocube here to offer him any advice or historical reference, but he didn't seem capable to leave. Data file after data file he'd scanned, linked to, and searched its branching subjects. Not one had given him a single byte of useful facts. Truthfully, the one standing out to him most would be the psychological holocube holding the topic of mental instability.
Groaning in defeat, the gladiator tossed his compad atop the growing pile beside him, throwing it away with a disgusted snort. A few apprentices stacking holocubes around him glanced his way nervously, always anxious around the more volatile of their race. Archivists were naturally curious and peaceful, much like the qualities of Orian Pax. Megatronus however, merely stole a look either way of him towards the paused workers and continued his quest across the bowls of the Hall of Records. Grabbing a holocube to his high left, Megatronus input his personal library access code and watched in utter concentration at what laid before him.
Assistants made a wide berth past him when they made their way to his other side, their arms usually loaded full with differing holocubes. Elder archivists, most around Orian's age, did their work swiftly and with their faceplates averted in respect. It was interesting to see the diligent efforts given by each Cybertronian mech or femme as they did what they were programmed to do, all while not meeting gazes with him once. This fact was backed with the sight that each neither had blue nor golden optics, as a higher caste citizen would bare, but white and green optic hues, such as the Terminal and slave classes wore. What was Orian doing in an occupancy such as this? He was a blue-sight after all.
Setting his attentions back on his servos, he skimmed the information, coming up empty once more. This was but a record of Cybertronian wires system. Again he threw it beside him and jerked his helm from side to side, seeking out the right holocube.
"Do you require some assistance in what you seek?"
Megatronus' servo went still and he drew it back, his optic ridges coming down at hearing the unfamiliar voice. He turned on the rougher tone and tilted his helm downward upon a quite noble mech with thin, lavender-colored armoring and a sharp, V-shaped crest. An odd decorative piece had been fixed to his mandible point, gliding down his chassis and connecting to a smaller attachment on his upper lip plate. Rounded caps covered his shoulderbolts while a single spike stabbed from both. On his peds rested wide armoring, complete with slim plates covering the tops of either.
In his deep, vivid gaze, there lay an incredible sense of wisdom and kindness, his faceplates worn and aged. The strange white around his optics accented the hue of them quite nicely. Megatronus found himself wondering why he saw this figure so familiar. Perhaps it was the way he held himself, proud and yet humble, as if the weights of the worlds were on his shoulderbolts. One arm behind his spinal support, he walked around Megatronus and took a moment to glance around at the holocubes missing from the shelves.
A curious air surrounded the mech, with his odd faceplate decor and pointed shoulderbolts. Even his expression, as he set two digits on his chin while he searched the aligned stock, remained composed. Who was this figure, a Cybertronian truly unafraid of his company?
"Psychological anomalies," Megatronus answered finally in their silence, following the older being's arm as he stretched it high above him. "I fear as though there may be a defect in my processor I need to take care of."
"Why not see a medic? I hear Ratchet is a fine one from Blaster city."
Peeking from holocube to gladiator, the newer mech flicked his optics to see Megatronus from the corner of his vision. The fighter's mandible clenched as the designation arose, and he fought down his inner bitterness for the benefit of his research. It was no good for him to scare away a possible assist. No response came from him, seeing as if he was to speak he was sure his voice would be tainted in irritation.
There was no need to say a word for the mech however, as he smiled when he fully looked up from his holocube. He then placed it neatly atop the shelf and gestured for Megatronus to follow him. As he walked away, a hesitant gladiator swept his helm around him to see those gathered. They all stared, watching for his next action. Snorting, he straightened himself and strode after this mysterious Cybertronian through the ground level. They tread across the floor without conversation, giving Megatronus the opportunity to look around him.
A vast area, the Hall of Records was seemingly boundless as it soared high into Cyberton's skies and cut off into surrounding floors. Each floor was scored through the middle to allow a skylight to be placed, revealing the iridescent view of the sky beyond. A golden hue shined by the sight, acting as a one-way window for all inside. Gleaming rails rounded around each floor, with some Cybertronians milling into optic range as they read compads or rested against the rails. Spiraled stairs stretched along each, wide and shining a bright silver as Megatronus and his guide approached.
They climbed and climbed these infinite steps, never breaking to admire the floors they passed and never taking a moment for rest. When it felt as though their journey would not end, the mech leading Megatronus paused and peered beside him. He gave a soft "aha" and moved onto this unfamiliar level. The warrior shadowing him pressed on as well, slowly following behind as they passed through the various cases chocked full of old and dusty holocubes and compads. They didn't appear to of been in use for some time, as their neglect of activity was beginning to ware on their surface.
Nevertheless, further and further they went into the darkened catacomb of the Hall of Records, the more uncertain Megatronus became. He began to question the mech before him and he hurried to reach him, placing a servo on the guide's shoulderbolt.
"Are you certain this is the way?"
The mech turned, went silent, and screwed in his optic ridges. As if he were lost or confused, he observed the immediate area and then grabbed his chin again in thought. "It seems I have forgotten what it was we were looking for," he admitted. "My apologies." He sounded genuine enough, however that didn't stop the fact that Megatronus was obviously shocked. The gladiator was dumbstruck while he followed his guide with his optics as the Cybertronian paced over to the end of the shelves, looked around, and then came back. "And we are looking for...?"
"Psychological anomalies. The distractions in my processor-"
"Ah, right. Now I recall. Follow my lead."
Again they started, Megatronus trailing behind as his odd assistant brought him further into the depths of the building. It felt as though they were dragging on into a random location when the mech stopped, rubbed his chin in thought for the endless time, and turned to his counterpart. As if he had fritz a circuit, he asked Megatronus where they were headed. His patience was waning the longer they traveled, and he briefly wondered if he should take his chances in finding what he sought himself. However, his peer needed little hint to remember his path and he hurried over to a small corner of the fifteenth floor. Dust and other signs of aging covered the shelves and holocubes thickly in a blanket of age.
The mech bobbed and weaved, searching quickly through the grouped information catalysts before he jerked and his arm shot forward into the sea of fine powder. This caused a wave of particles to hit the immediate area. Megatronus found himself choking in the cloud, his servo waving side to side to clear before him. His optics squinted and he hacked again, struggling to vent properly. His helper was coughing as well and continued to do so long after the tendrils of silvery dust had gone.
Clearing his throat to expel the material was difficult, as it thickened when mixed with his fluids. A few puffs of this substance exploded from both mechs' venting systems as the last of it was found and ejected from them.
"Well..." the elder one of the two barked a few more times and shook his helm, "I figure I have found what it was you were looking for." His bulky digits brushed off the layers covering the holocube in his gasp, revealing an older model technology that Megatronus hadn't seen since the orns of his younglinghood. It was a faded azure color, with glowing veins covered as an intricate net over the surface. When activated, faint light shot through the trails and a holographic screen floated above.
Megatronus held out his servo when the object was given to him. It took some time for the information to load, which came to show how far their sciences had come since his creation. As the view of his interest flushed across the screen, he quickly skimmed it over. It took but a nanoclick for him to knit his optic ridges in confusion, and go over what he saw a few more times. He even swiped to the following pages, if but to make certain his optics did not deceive him. He then powered down the holocube and set his gaze on the one standing in front of him.
"This holocube is stocked with the wrong data," he said. He began to give the device back, however the mech he handed it to simply smiled in a confident manner and stepped back.
"It is the right one."
"But the title of this holocube is: Affection and it's Qualities. I require a central processing unit medical manual."
"I figure you shall find this adequate enough. Think of it as a gift from myself and the Hall of Records. Return it anytime you like."
"But this is-"
"What you're looking for. Just take it." The mech's servos came up, gesturing that he did not wish to take the object back. His grin was wide and bold, his optics aglow. The way he studied the gladiator put an uncertain twist in Megatronus' spark, and he awkwardly accepted the device with some apprehension. It was now that his guide decided to take his leave, rounding around Megatronus and walking away without so much as a farewell.
What inner secret did this mech contain that pushed him to grant Megatronus this information? How was this holocube, so different from what he originally planned to take out, meant to aid him in his inquiries? Such odd symptoms he'd felt over these orns since his meeting with Euphoria... They were not an unpleasant experience. Actually, quite the opposite. Could he feel them again?
Jerking to attention, Megatronus whipped around and reached forward, grabbing his former guide's arm before the mech could get far. He set wise, patient optics on the one holding him, his expression neither angered nor startled. "Wait," Megatronus called, his digits lifting away when he'd caught the being's attention, "what is your designation?"
Again, his smile returned. The white kibble around his lip plates curved with the sight and gave him an eerie, all-knowing appearance. They seemed all too familiar, and it annoyed Megatronus to no ends to be unable to recall where he had met this figure before. And at the same time, he had this mech's name on the tip of his glossa, awaiting the moment to be spoken. His processor buzzed, his memory files filtering at incomprehensible speeds. All at once, the realization hit him, and he drew in a sharp vent with the knowledge.
"Alpha Trion."
The Cybertronian chuckled and began away again, stopping at the landing for the stairs. His servo stalled on the rails, his faceplates bright when he peered back at Megatronus standing frigid where he'd left him. The gladiator was lost for words, his spark pumping furiously. Alpha Trion gave him a single nod, waved his servo, and said his final goodbye before setting off:
"Tell Orian Pax I send my greeting."
Focus.
Her servo passed lightly over his kneebolt, unlocking the protective cup there and exposing the pivotjoint and kneebolt underneath.
Focus.
The tenderness in her digits sent electricity up his leg as she dipped them inside the mechanism. Pain laced through the limb and he sucked in a cycle, both from the discomfort and her frame so near to his.
This femme is only that: a femme.
But the concern in her innocent optics as she turned their purity upon him took the feeling of indifference right out of his systems. Her touch was sincere, her voice soothing as high grade energon.
"Am I hurting you?" she asked carefully. Her question was soft and hesitant, her servos hovering over his injured kneebolt. He roughly swept his helm from side to side, clenching his oral sheets as the wave of affliction died off.
"No."
"Please tell me if anything is happening, I don't want-"
"Everything is fine Euphoria, I am a gladiator. My wounds are manageable," he told her firmly. His assurance did not appear to have much affect on the femme, however she remained quiet when she returned to tending to his appendage. He made better sure to stifle his vocal capacitor when he felt the pain, which seemed to help in the clicks she spent observing him.
It was groons now since their first meeting, with their usual gathering place in the Helix Gardens, centered by the massive fountain at its core. They communicated mostly by comlink now, neither refusing the others hails when they needed to meet at their usual location. They spent most of their time in silence. This was not a hindrance, as Megatronus was often distant and collected around the medic.
She didn't spend much of their time attempting conversation either, and it often was clear that she must have found some form of comfort in the quiet between them. It was one of the qualities Megatronus found most interesting in her, as most femmes spoke until their victim's audios fritzed or the listener turned them off themselves. Megatronus often caught himself staring at her, watching her move and the way she performed the most mundane tasks. Every sweep of her arms, and each step of her long, sapphire legs, intrigued him. The intelligence in her speech and the way she held herself spoke of an upper-caste femme, however her optics showed the color of the white-sighted, Mezzo-class.
Now even, she remained vigilant in keeping their mutual silence strong while she worked. The way her optic ridges dug deep into the contours of her attractive faceplates, and the small ticks made by the attachments on her helm as she focused, furthermore spiked his attention. He was amazed by the dedication she held in her business and the swiftness of her labor. However, she seemed too serious and far less characteristic of herself when she was in this stage, and he realized he didn't appreciate seeing this side of her.
Without thinking, he did the first thing on his processor. The holocube given to him by Alpha Trion was helpful in describing some of his more fascinating developments inside his processor. Mentions of 'infatuation' and 'lust' came up ever so often, and he found them disturbingly similar to his symptoms the more he read. Explaining the feelings of his body was difficult in itself, and most what he found inside the holocube was slightly or more untrue. One of the actions he found he did now, noticing that in the manual it helped to relieve stress.
Carefully, he placed a single digit under her chin and lifted her faceplates. She was surprised and confused, her optics marred with interest. Before she could react next, his frame folded forward and he pressed his lip plates to hers.
Fire bloomed forth from the contact, shocking even Megatronus when he moved his lip plates against the softness of Euphoria's. This tingling continued down into the bare core of himself, wrapping around his spark and causing it to flutter. Curious, he deepened their kiss, causing delicious licks of flame to electrify his wiring. Euphoria was languid in reacting to him and failed to resist him while he made his action. Everything about it was so pleasant in nature, while the energy running rampant throughout him stirred something in his tanks.
And instinct drove him on to grab her arm with a softness he himself didn't know he possessed, if but to keep her close. A slimmer limb, definitely hers, crept up his chassis and settled around the back of his neck, allowing him no chance of immediate escape. She couldn't trap him here, and he was conscious of the fact that they could part at any time, but for some strange, unfathomable reason, he had no desire to.
He did eventually separate them, as he found himself slipping into a side of himself he neither understood, nor could recognize. As he pulled away, a stray twitch from her servo behind him urged him to stop, inches away from her faceplates. A new contentment was there, her optic slips halfway closed and her lip plates slightly pursed. But then they shot wider, the sight of them suddenly and without warning comprehending what had happened. It was now that she threw herself away, her arms drawn up to her chassis in an odd way. A slight blue hue crossed over her cheekplates, their warmth sending a glow over her silver features.
Megatronus, caught in questioning of it all, lifted a digit and touched his lip plates. His optic ridges knitted and he fought to grasp the concept of what it was he was feeling. The way he experienced a refreshing heat when he was nearby this femme spurred most of his actions toward her. On the other servo, the fogginess in his logical programming and the unexplainable variables in this situation made him uncertain. There were more inquiries here than answers.
"Megatronus, why did you..." Euphoria herself was struck speechless when she touched her own lip plates, the shade of blue on her cheekplates darkening. He was watching her reaction, studying the way she became so flustered and shy when he did things such as this. Such an interesting creature...
"I was curious. You are the only femme whom has stolen my interests so incredibly," he said simply. His arm lowered and Euphoria looked up at him. "Had you not enjoyed my kiss?"
Euphoria's clumsiness peaked here when she tossed her arms across her body and she waved them from side to side. One would think she was landing an aircraft carrier from the way she violently swept them before her. That same blue on her faceplates spread to over half of her features, making her appear almost comical. "Of course not! I mean- yes, I did, however, that does not explain the fact of why...you did it...in the first place."
She calmed enough to turn away and bring her arms close, her optics avoiding his. His thoughts now fully on her, Megatronus ducked his helm down to get a better view of her expression.
When she had noticed him, she swiftly pivoted on her heelpeds and swooped closer, bending over his kneebolt far enough that he was unable to see her faceplates. He jerked up when she had jumped nearer, his blue gaze following her movements while she worked.
"Let us just...continue with your therapy. I'm certain we can find some way to heal it without major surgery," she decided abruptly. Her oral tube cleared and her vents revved. "There may be a chance I can smuggle a spare kneebolt replacement from the stocks and get it here. However, I am promising nothing." Still she would not look up at him. Why wouldn't she? Was she afraid of him? Did he do something to offend her? The lack of answers he received from her was irritating and made his spark hum in dissatisfaction. What did she want from him?
The better of the situation was that she seemed more relaxed. She continued her work without the vision of inner torment on her faceplates, or a sense of stress in her touch. It was softer now as she closed his kneebolt cap and her servos stalled there as if unwilling to part just yet. And as she did pull away, the separation proved far too cold for Megatronus' liking. He reached after her and grabbed her servo in his own, finding his doubled the size of hers. Nevertheless, it fit perfectly in the contours of his palms.
"Tell me," he called, not allowing Euphoria leave his side. She froze on the spot, from alarm or fright, he was unsure. "Why do you not...fear me?"
Her features, beautiful even in the lack of light of the orn, shone in the silvery embrace of the moons. Her optics, wide and innocent, mirrored her pure spark that seemed to glow beneath her chassis. The armoring was no match for the warmth leaking amongst the seams from them both. Lip plates parted, ready to answer, while their vents whirred heavily in the songs of the later orn darkness.
"I..." Venomous blues flushed her cheekplates in a fainter intensity than before, thrusting her in a surreal aura. "I know you will not harm me." Her answer was soft and shaking with unused energy. Megatronus felt them drifting together once again beyond their will, as if another outside entity controlled their motion. Their frames buzzed in their rushing sparkbeats, roaring in Megatronus' audios though he usually experienced no sense of such excitement.
"How do you know?" he demanded, though his voice remained low.
Euphoria did not flinch and she did not stutter. Her words were clear here. "Because that's not who you are."
Her optic slips folded downward as they had before. His fought to remain up, but eventually fell victim to the heaviness as well. As they fell into a cycle of repetition, their lip plates meeting, Megatronus knew this was not enough. This fire raging within him snuffed any before. Literal flames had engulfed his frame in time from the pits, however now, it attacked the veins running thick with his near crazed energon.
Megatronus grabbed Euphoria and hoisted her higher, standing himself. He ignored the complaints of his kneebolt as he ran a single servo down the length of her back. She shivered and he did so as well. Their passionate grasp deepened with their kiss as they moved as one, clinging to each other desperately. She slung her arms around his neck, holding on for dear, sweet life. They locked and Megatronus thrust Euphoria into one of the nearby crystal trees, shaking loose a few limbs. She threw her legs tight around him, barring him against her.
He was not letting her leave his sights now, or henceforth. Ratchet be blasted to Pit if he dare trespass upon this femme again. A growl split Megatronus' vocal capacitor when he pictured another mech encroaching this being wound so tightly around his hipbolts. It disturbed him unlike anything before to visualize such events.
But why? Why did he wish to snarl at any mech whom touch this femme? Why did he wish for her frame against his, longing, and yearning to catch the feel of her intimate servos across his spark? Who was this femme to bring him to such weakness and cause his kneebolts to go slack? She was different than the others...
Megatronus clamored for a hold on the femme writhing underneath him, fighting for a solid hold. She moaned and squirmed, her digits clasped deep in the folds of his armoring. Megatronus in turn ducked his helm close, using his bulk to pin her to the spot. One arm shot to the tree, giving him leverage over her while the other servo kept her fast up against him. It would be here and now that this moment would burn into his memory core, as his frame melded with hers. Together they vented and explored, caught up in the fullness of one another to dare break.
It was here that a love affair would begin.
And there we go!
Poor Megatronus and all his messy, confused feelings XD
He's got some work to do...
I've got these chapter piled up, just waiting to be edited and put out.
They're coming out pretty random now,
But hopefully soon I can get a schedule going :)
Thanks everyone for reading/reviewing/favoriting,
It really means a lot and keeps me writing ;)
