How long has it been since the last chapter?
Three weeks maybe?
Anyway, it's been too long, so sorry guys :)
I actually quite like this chapter, so I hope it makes up for my absence,
I've got no excuses .
Enjoy!
Chapter 4
Allure
~Warning: Total systems shutdown eminent. Automatic pressure stabilization attempts failure. Complete termination of restart programs. Recovery softwares attempting restoration...scanning for solution...scanning... No solution found. Central Processing Unit contaminated with foreign material. Constructing diagnostic...scanning... Scan incomplete. Viral ware detected in Central Processing Unit. Memory core crashing...attempting failsafe recovery... ERROR: CODE: 54692 - Meltdown in *major core valve, spinal relay hardware, motorization adaptor junction, circulatory modus operandi* resulting in *fatality* if not seen by medical assist within ten clicks...nine...eight...~
Time was not for the unwise to handle with such indecent discrepancy. Many events over, resulted in similar consequence. Because of the foolish. A never-ceasing cycle of ignorance.
Time was a device to be abused; to be trod upon in such woeful effect that many before and likewise following, truly failed to understand.
Time was given.
Time was taken.
However, time, as in each precious, forthcoming breath, shan't be rejected. It may only evolve; grow into just exploration to provide for those it exists to serve, if but for limited trial. Thus, it is to continuously provide reason to be worshiped; desired; feared.
And here again, the tenancies of time coincide with the latter, eerily duplicate of itself: Fear.
What role would Time dare play without Fear as its partner?
~Excerpt of Alpha Trion's speech at the height of the Golden Age
24,691 vorns, 12 quartexes, 4 groons earlier:
"And she grabbed my arm before I was given chance to say anything."
"Mhm..."
"We strolled in the museum longer than...Primus, I cannot think of a grander hall. Anything word she spoke was incredibly intelligent."
"Of course..."
"And her optics...Megatronus, what I wouldn't do to see them constantly within my recharge?"
"Mhm..."
"Are you paying attention, brother?"
Megatronus jerked to attention, snapping himself away from the holograph in his servo. A flatter image, it was a condensed compad, already loaded with Euphoria's contact information (though that remained already deeply logged into Megatronus' memory core), and a very flattering image of Euphoria herself. Her smile brightened the picture and lit up the contours of her astonishingly beautiful features, making Megatronus' spark skip a beat upon seeing it each time. The very sight of her optics burning so vividly into his own ceased his venting and caused his frame to warm.
"Excuse me?"
"Have you computed everything I told you?" Orian asked, his servos on his hipbolts and his helm tilted down on his larger comrade sitting at his desk on the far wall. He had been pacing mere moments before, only to stop in observation of the gladiator whom was caught so intently with a compad in his grasp.
"Yes..." Megatronus lied hesitantly. Orian shook his helm and grinned, unable to stop himself from finding his sibling's distraction humorous.
"Indulge me, Megatronus, on perhaps why it is you find such interest in that tiny device?" Whether it be from the tone of Orian's voice, or the way he watched his brother with such avid humor, Megatronus curled his lip plates and turned his spinal support to the red and blue apprentice.
No amount of ridicule or derision aimed towards him could ever turn Megatronus back now. He had drifted far too greatly into the depths of his desire to dare rip himself away. Neither Orian nor Sentinel knew much, or anything of the femme, truly, though Orian had fair better idea of her existence. Megatronus fought to conceal her involvement in his life cycle, fearing Sentinel would condemn her lower caste position and thus ruin both lives for femme and mech.
Orian approached Megatronus from behind, placing a servo on his peer's shoulderbolt. Megatronus held Euphoria's picture downward, hiding her profile from the curious optics of his adoptive sibling.
"I did not offend you...did I?" he inquired softly. The change in atmosphere between them changed vastly from eased to tense. It disturbed the gladiator far more than any match to witness the discomfort and incredible sadness in his innocent brother's gaze.
The cerulean glow met wit Megatronus' own and he sighed in defeat at the disarming tenderness. If one event frightened the younger of the mechs, it appeared to be placing bad energon between them.
"No. You did not," Megatronus assured. Part of himself fractured when he allowed himself to fall to the affect of Orian's ignorance. It shocked him at various points that his optics could be opened so many times by the immense purity Orian held compared to the corruption of the rest of Cybertron.
If Sentinel had done one act of humility for his apprentices, it had been shielding Orian so well. Eventually the cyberling would be forced to face the evils of his world as Prime, however, Megatronus would make well certain it would be as late a time as possible.
~Why do you hide her from me Megatronus?~ Orian now spoke through comlink, securing their conversation in absolute private. ~I have noticed your absence in your berth in the middle of the late orn, and the increasing silence between us. These secrets building inside of you have put you at distance from me.~
~That is not what I had intended Orian. I would never have intentionally discarded you.~
Now that he had paid it attention, the mech was increasingly becoming aware of his brother's truth. Yes, he was lacking in his attentions for his closest comrade. However, because of that, he was spending more of himself in the sake of realizing where his life cycle was taking him. This was in his journey to branch off and find himself. Euphoria was having influence on his decisions already, making her a vital part of his orn to orn routine. Why?
~Nonetheless I feel as though it would turn out this way eventually.~ Megatronus outwardly sighed, his frame rattling with an age he failed yet to possess.
~You say this was meant to happen: your reoccurring absences?~ Orian question in near horror.
At this Megatronus rose. His frustrations with Orian's persistent anxiety forced him at many times to sacrifice his own sanity in calming the younger of them. It appeared as though this was one of those occasions; where Megatronus would stand, facing Orian, with his servos on the cyberling's shoulderbolts, and settle him with a fierce and yet gentle stare.
"We must travel our own ways at one circumstance brother. You have Ariel now, thus she is to become your sole concern from this orn on," he began calmly. Orian's optics widened in both fear and wonder. "Do not believe I am to leave your side even as I grow fonder of another. Brother, we are one, no matter our presence. Sentinel be blasted to Pit, we are bonded deeper than any sparkmates. It is a sibling bond, one which may never cease."
Megatronus' fist laid on his chassis directly over the chamber of his spark. A sort of relaxation took over the armoring beneath Megatronus' digits as Orian came to better terms. A small and tender smile graced his faceplates, which still betray his inner and never-ending worries. Forevermore would this mech face concern.
"Come," Megatronus stepped aside and began for the doors of their living area, stopping when he had reached the open frame. "Let us take a walk."
He could feel nothing; see nothing; he was nothing.
Light could not escape. This black hole was too strong.
But a voice.
A single, clear voice broke through to him.
And it absolutely shattered his spark.
"Megatronus."
"Megatronus, you lazy mech, wake up."
And he did what he was told. This voice, he trusted it. He knew it and therefore, he knew he could trust it.
His optics opened to exploding pain in his helm. It pounded as if his last opponent in the pits had bashed his cranial unit inwards and was still doing so now. The pressure behind his optics and noseplate made him wince and reach up with a numb limb as heavy as lead to pinch the bridge. A moan escaped him in his lethargy.
"I was fearful you wouldn't come to."
There she was - beautiful as she could ever be, closer than the armor on his protoform.
She lay against his side, tucked perfectly into the curve there as if his armoring had been made for her. He caught himself relishing the feel of her long legs tangled in with his own, her arms cradling his chassis. Both systems of vents whirred softly in a humming song of their contentment. A slight fluttering started up in Megatronus' chassis.
Euphoria must have been here for quite some time, for the ware of her features destroyed any sign of complete awareness. Herself having stayed up for less than an orn may have been too long for her to await her lover. His half conscious processor clicked into gear faster than he could swing his sword, thrusting the fact at him that she had awaited his return to the living with her delicate and intricately crafted frame laying so closely to his own.
He chuckled, dipping his helm downward so to nuzzle her neck. The sensation of her pleasured buzzing nearly set his frame afire.
"You could not await my waking until I had gained my proper recharge?" he teased playfully, using the arm draped so carefully around the spinal support of the femme to press her ever harder to his side. She did not mind, actually shifting herself to further interlock her armoring more perfectly with his.
"Of course not. What would I do alone without you here to speak with?" she began tracing random shapes across his thick armoring, sending shivers down his frame.
"If you must ask-"
"Do not answer that question," she snapped quickly.
Megatronus chuckled before falling quiet. It was moments such as these that he appreciated most of his femme. She was happy with the silence. It was unlike any Megatronus had the displeasure of meeting before where a femme had the audacity to chatter his audios to fritz. Eventually he would switch them off to save their condition. However these gatherings Sentinel put in place to possibly court femmes for his progeny were becoming more and more frequent. At some time Sentinel would force upon them both an arrange bondage.
Having Euphoria in his arms and letting himself drift to such distasteful scenarios made him instinctively hold her firmer to him. Currently her helm lay on his shoulderbolt and sit just under the juncture of his mandible. But at his unexpected movement she lifted said attractive helm to place two warm white optics on him.
"I am not leaving you Megatronus," she promised softly. Instantly the doubt left him. To have her here, tangible, when the thought of intended bindings remain so much a thought rather than reality, put him at better ease. Still there could not be enough caution in him.
He caught her with his own gaze which stay alit in an uncertain glow. The azure of his own optics melted with the white of hers, showering her in a faint cerulean casting while he was painted in ivory. A ghostly shade caught her features and made her appear far more dramatic and surreal. A minor part of himself appreciated the danger in such a look for her. It thrilled him.
"Euphoria..." his attentions snapped aside, where the gleam of the metallic walls gained his wandering gaze. It was a roomy space, sparsely furnished with but the basic of necessities. Their berth sit directly next to the rear most wall. A bland area mostly, it lacked much color other than grey, including the mesh hung above them that was currently pushed aside. A washrack could be seen in the far back of the room, flanked by a decontamination center and a container that appeared full of medical tools. A single holographic picture displayed toward the window on the wall to their far left. "Where are we?"
"A medical facility in Kalis, second district," Euphoria explained, lifting herself to her elbowjoints. "I have contact with a femme here who has accepted to assist us in replacing your kneebolt."
A buzzing started up in such kneebolt and traveled up the length of his leg and into his side. For a moment his processor traveled to Ratchet, whom as of lately, had not been on best of terms with the gladiator. His faceplates scowled, almost assuming Euphoria would trick him into meeting with a femme, only to have the Blaster City medic stride in. The dashing mech would take Euphoria into his arms while Megatronus sit in shutdown, whisking her away and off into lands too far and obscured for Megatronus to find them again.
His sour mood ruined Euphoria's expression of peace. Her optic ridges fell and knitted into the shining of her white gaze. "Megatronus?" she said his designation questioningly.
"It had better not to be Ratchet meeting with us here. I am not particularly fond of him," Megatronus told her bluntly. Euphoria's features unwound and a smile took the place of the marring worry. Slowly she reached down and pressed her lip plates against his, pulling away after a sparkbeat or so.
"There is no need to fear him Megatronus, my spark is yours now," she pressed their foreplates together, their bodies aligned from chassis to anklestrut. "Ratchet is merely my colleague."
"He better be," Megatronus growled. He abruptly threw himself up, throwing Euphoria beneath him. Her arms sit above her, her shape prostrating against the lengthy berth they laid on. The dimness of the room did nothing to hide the ethereal lucency of her aura. Every feature of her, down to the seams of her armoring, shined brighter than the stars. Pinned under him, Megatronus felt as though Euphoria had become more of his possession, a more solid representation that he had claimed his rights.
She was startled at first and hadn't the reflex to react in time. Because of this she was left with wide optics and limbs limp beneath the larger mech. His far greater servos covered hers, however dare not grab her to the point of pain, but kept his grip firm. Their legs once again twisted, with Megatronus hovering low enough to brush their chassises. He felt the tremble and heard the momentary shallowness of her venting. It was quick, but it had been there.
"I do not take well with competition," Megatronus' voice was graveled and deep enough that it was possibly inaudible. From the reaction crossed Euphoria it had indeed been registered.
"Competition..." she trailed off, unable to continue as Megatronus bowed and kissed her. He could taste the sweetness of her breath and trace the delicate softness of her lip plates. His own technique remain strong and rough, while her own in contrast was hesitant and slow. They stood at opposite ends yet worked so well together.
Impatient, Megatronus placed Euphoria's servos on his chassis, willing her to explore. He himself drug a servo down her side, taking in the curve of her helm under his digit tips and the way her side bowed so naturally into the smoothness of her hipbolts. A tenderness beyond him urged he lightly bring his digits across her thigh, which received a moan from the femme under his curious form. In an instant he had yanked that leg up, hoisting it around his hip bolt.
Euphoria was scorching his armor and thus melded with his own soaring temperatures nicely. The pain in his kneebolt was certainly forgotten as he trailed a servo over her abdominal slips, peaking over her spark and settling over the chamber. Euphoria had her digits deep within the cracks of his armor, playing with the wires hidden past. One pinch made him snarl against her, his servos locking now needily onto her. Their panting vents whined louder and coolant systems fought to keep up.
In retaliation Megatronus found Euphoria's own spot, beside her hipbolt, where when agitated she arched beautifully. Now they writhed and lost themselves, dipping quicker and quicker into a part of themselves they did not know. And inner instinct, one buried long ago and ingrained within their very gridmap, roared a command they failed to refuse.
A crude noise from the doorway shattered both hazes instantly.
"Had I failed to mention I do not particularly enjoy interface in my facility?" a femme voice. Unfamiliar."Especially with one of my patients."
Euphoria jerked from Megatronus, ripping their kiss apart to turn stretched optics on the stranger at the entrance. The two on the berth split apart almost painfully, Euphoria scrambling away and situating herself on the complete opposite end of the structure while her mech counterpart took his sweet time in settling himself.
Megatronus found no reason to become so flustered as Euphoria had been and took on his own personal technique of allowing himself to cool. Euphoria's cheekplates were stained a faint bluish hue which Megatronus found absolutely enchanting. The medic entering the room certainly did not seem to process the same idea.
"I leave you both here alone for a breem and you already have her wrapped around you," the femme looked to Megatronus pointedly. He did not react.
This newcomer was fairly tall for a femme, with black paint covering her thin armor and violet markings detailing the rest. Her helm was rounded, with two protrusions from the sides of her cranial unit circling around to meet at the back. A simpler design, her overall frame work was not too impressive, but gave off a simpler attractiveness. A symbol grazed her shoulderbolt and marked her as a Cybertronian medic.
"It is pleasant to see you as well...Slipstream," Euphoria greeted apprehensively.
Slipstream snorted in contempt at the situation before her. To Megatronus, it felt as though this femme was studying him. He could sense her observing his frame and the way his peer fidgeted while he stayed completely still and relaxed.
True, his frame continued to burn waspishly following his abrupt parting with Euphoria. It was the notion in his processor that they would eventually gain this opportunity again that kept him grounded so naturally. In time, he knew he would gain what he desired.
"I have the kneebolt you asked for me to retrieve," Slipstream reported. Her optics glanced distrustfully beside her at Megatronus. It was as though she held a sort of score with him. Had he done something wrong?
Euphoria visibly relaxed and slipped from the berth to walk up to her friend. Slipstream was a minor bit taller than her deeply blue comrade, and yet seemed of a sleeker, more refined build. Definitely a flier.
"Thank you. Did you gain it from Starscream?" The femme took the device from Slipstream's servos and placed it aside Megatronus. Slipstream huffed and crossed her arms, her lip plates curling.
"As if my brother cared for my whims," she bit scornfully. "He is far too concerned with the wellbeing of his brethren in arms than his own iron and energon."
"Certainly he shall bring you to Vos with him at least?"
"Unlikely," Slipstream and Euphoria traveled to the opposite end of the floor, where an array of various tools and devices lay. Euphoria listened intently to her femme peer and apparently forgot of the presence of the gladiator behind her. Megatronus found this incredibly disdainful and remained simmering in bitter silence while the conversing medics talked away obliviously to his being.
When they had returned to his side he decided against interrupting their speech. It was obvious they needn't pay attention to him, seeing as each spent their luxurious time wasting away by organizing the material required for Megatronus' repairs.
Those already made to him by the weldings of Ratchet burned as if touched by acid. Venting was difficult in this dim space, as it suddenly grew tenfold heavier on his frame. He found himself distracted and frozen while watching his femme from the back while she went between stations.
She was only a medic.
"Let me have your arm," her voice cut through to him and soothed whatever qualms his spark made. Phantom ailments vanished and his servos slipped from his side. Careful optics looked up at him, slightly higher now that one stood and one sat. A single servo half the size of his hovered in wait. Patience danced softly in the white of her gaze.
And yet strangely so much more.
"Megatronus?" she urged, that same tone carried even in question.
Numbly he handed himself over to her. He hadn't the want to be injected, but if any were to do it, he trusted Euphoria far further than the indignant Slipstream. The armor protecting his main energon line was removed and set aside to expose one of his highest weaknesses. Instinctively as a gladiator he was taught to never have this part of himself shown to the enemy less he chose death as his fate. And because of this it made him anxious to dare let openness touch this vein that could take away his life cycle with a single slit.
Still he forced himself to allow Euphoria's tender touch dip inside and cup the line, her free servo lowering the syringe. At the last moment she looked up and met optics with Megatronus.
She smiled. "I shall see you after this is passed, Megatronus." such fondness. He lacked the ability to respond before the cold instrument pierced his line and flooded his energon with fatigue.
Slowly the drug flowed through him. It bloomed into his limbs and took over the expanse of his digits and toelinks. His helm swum with visions of swirling metals and darkness. The sounds around him became muffled, as if smothered, while the smells narrowed to such one scent. This all went beyond his inner instincts to attack what attacked him. It was bare will that withheld him.
And lower he sunk into himself, turning to solidified liquid. Steady servos that served as his one solid point cradled his helm and set him on his spinal support. He was comfortable, if not for the coldness and swimming impairment of his senses. Black crowded his vision until nothing but it was seeable.
Then a mass of unsteady shape motioned towards him, growing larger and larger. Unable to move he remain motionless to intercept this thing coming at him. And when he figured his body was to be crushed by this unidentifiable thing, softness brushed the shape of his lip plates. Whispered words filtered into his audios, soothing him, even as he knew not what had been said.
Then this mass moved away and his world became sheathed in black.
Energon.
Energon everywhere.
He felt himself sinking into the familiar beat of the crowd. Their stampeding peds thumped in succession; in a single series of sparkbeats so deep it felt as though Cybertron's own was thundering beneath the crust.
Energy flowed through him and granted him the skill he needed so as he swung and thrust. Slashing limbs twirled and flung either ways in practiced precision. This ceaseless song roaring in his helm called for the one instinct of his body at the time, so loud it drowned even the barbaric screaming of those surrounding him. Curdling his energon, they screeched and burst into utter chaos upon the downcast of his sword.
Each swing, each blow, drug him on. He stepped, flicked his wrist, dug into the flesh of his own. Azure flashed under the murderous gleam in each spectator's optics.
Shaking rapture swelled in each wave of these citizens' calls. They bellowed, as did he. They became one - this crowd, this gladiator. And the beating of their peds became the beating of his spark. The beating of Cybertron's spark became his own. And he dwelled in this wondrous power. And he bathed in the glorious life of his dying opponent.
He took another step, jabbing his sword forward into the glow of victory. Light flashed against its gory shaft. Drops of yet to be dried energon flung from its surface to join in puddles around the scathed arena. Crude howling picked up into a disorienting volume that time itself slowed.
The figure of silver slipped into a languid posture and clumsily missed the chance for his enemy's termination. One still uncovered side of himself remain exposed and open.
His enemy bunted and thrashed at him with their own weapon. Following the energon leaving his own body, his skill and instinct flushed from him. Each impact grew in strength and rarely allowed his slowing frame to defend or strike back. The crowd was wailing with him and with their change of support, their new champion grew in strength. Their silhouette enlarged; it collected upon the energon at their peds. This shed life attracted to them and absorbed back into them.
Sword hit armor. He could feel his body ripping apart. Fear gripped his tanks. His spark thrummed in primitive terror against the chamber of his chassis. A single snap to his bracer and his sword was dislodged from him. The shining blade whipped away to skid across the ground.
The crowd shouted their approval.
And now the grimness within him told of his impending fate. The scales were tipping from him. He knew of his arising future though he bore absolutely no ability to stop it. Why? Why could he not fight back though he clearly knew how? His scrambled thoughts obscured his technique and caused him to settle with responseless arms and unstable legs.
His helm snapped aside as the sword slashed his cheekplate. He felt the denting. He knew of the lacerations decorating his features and the lack of armor on him that now lay in scattered spots in his enemy's wake.
And suddenly his opponent leaned back. His upper half reclined to lift his leg.
This gladiator, the one he now considered his victim, hung limp and motionless before him. His processor was clawing and fumbling for survival. It desperately held onto the hope of living and keeping the spark beating. And yet he could not move. He'd forgotten how.
And his enemy took his time in coiling his attack. He moved in ridiculous speed, halting in his climax before setting merciless optics on him. Memory attacked the gladiator's processor at the features of this mech he fought. It had been the same one he himself had slain but two groons ago.
The supposedly deadsparked mech threw himself forward, landing a swift kick to Megatronus' chassis. In an instant he was flat on the ground, not reacting, and not moving. But inside of himself he cried out in absolute rage. His vents seized from venting under the weight of his enemy. A wide ped splayed about his chassis, choking the life from his vents.
Pressure bulged in Megatronus' helm and body. Yet he did not move and he did not speak. The crowd's monstrous callings overwhelmed anything and everything. Color drained and deafening sound repeatedly broke Megatronus' audios. They repaired themselves again and again, only to be destroyed by the cry of the witnesses.
And the mech poised over him glanced upward where Nightjade would stand. Mighty and intimidating the golden Pit Master would send his consort aside while he stood and strode down the length of his steps. He would then raise his mighty arm, his thumb link erect. Shimmering layers of his armor would blind with its near liquid appearance.
The crowd hushed in anticipation. Nightjade's request filled the air in amplified decibels. Though Megatronus could not understand these words he spoke through the crackling of his fritzed audios, he knew them well enough to predict. The crowd cheered again, but thankfully, Megatronus' audios had been mercifully shot so it was but a distant droning. His enemy looked down upon him with a malicious smirk.
A thick sword raised far above him, pausing in the ray of Cybertron's moons. Billions of starts glinted in the skies of smoke. An odd humming began in Megatronus' chassis when he viewed such a sight as this mech standing before a sheen of beautiful stars and a posed blade.
And then his enemy swiftly brought down that sword.
Megatronus awoke screaming.
A barrage of bright color was assaulting his optics. A strange tinge had overcome his processor that warned of threat and danger. Slaughter played out before him on vivid wings of mist. A rapid thumping of his spark foretold its great leap from his chamber. Coiling, curling fits of smoke doused the systems of his vents. He soon found himself struggling to vent and choking on his own energon.
A guttural roar found itself snaking from his throat. Instinct inside of him buried far within the vorns of his species rose to the surface with shocking vigor. Pain. He felt pain.
The spot where his helm should have been lopped from his shoulderbolts burned as if a scar had traveled around his jugular. Clumsy spots of pressure made waves throughout his frame, overloading his processor here, crashing the sensors on his digits there. One by one the strings of his processor were unwinding. Utter, total, gripping fear clamped onto him.
Weights strapped him down to some solid structure. The coldness emitting from it soaked into his armor and stole whatever warmth he held inside him. Darkness leaked across his vision, blotting out the white in slowly growing splotches. In pure instinct he fought with the waning strength of his agitated limbs.
Strength pumped through him in renewed rounds while he thrashed to get free. His optics were wide enough to make him feel as if they would split. Coursing, scolding temperature rose along the contours of the plates on his chassis. Where his spark would be, there was but a swelling flame. Steam and sparks flickered from his overworked vents. And again he screamed.
His spinal support arched, bowing high above the merciless flat of which he laid on. But he tired quickly of it and returned to yanking on his limbs. They seemed bolted down by invisible forces, which only spurred on his anger. Fury and terror drove him near insane.
Bellowing, he ripped on his limbs with mad desperation. He felt them slipping from their pockets, the pivotjoints wailing with the abuse. However, if it meant losing an arm (or both) he was glad to take that risk. If only to be free, he yelled until his vocal processor cracked. It popped once and went out, leaving him to call out in fierce silence.
And in his wriggling, he was abruptly mounted. His upper body straddled, he grew even more so frenzied. The mass was pressed firmly to him, yet it retained almost pitiful weight compared to his own. He snarled and rolled himself to rid this attachment to him. Whatever it was remained, and he grew infuriated with its presence. He felt trapped - claustrophobic when this thing wrapped around him and grabbed at his faceplates.
Figuring it dangerous, Megatronus twisted away and panted with his exhaustion. But no, he could not allow himself to rest. He needed to fight. And fight he did.
The sudden move he made to butt his shoulderbolt into this entity on top of him resulted with a resounding click and instantaneous agony. Pain seared across his chassis and spinal support instantly, making him screech oh so quietly. Unable to make a noise, he could but arch again at the intense suffering he experienced from the area. A tingling numbness suddenly enveloped the arm, traveling up the lower part of his neck. Gurgling could be felt in his throat, which he spat out when he flipped his helm to the side. If only he could rid himself this limb, the pain would be over...
"Megatronus!"
Immediately the blindness receded. His boiling energon calmed and flowed more smoothly through his veins. Heat once almost melting the alloy from his frame lessened as well to more manageable measures. Pressure in his helm evened to the point where light and darkness evened out to simple patters and colors. Scents failed to have the metallic edge to them any longer.
However the discomfort remained, if not strengthened, and he released a low moan that welled through a fritzed vocal processor. What he figured was energon trickled from his lip plates as a warm, slick stream onto what he laid on. It then pooled and settled by his neck.
"Megatronus."
Again, the same voice called to him. Through the dim he squinted and rolled his sore and aching cranial unit upward. A light from the Pit itself attacked him and he hissed, closing off his optic slips immediately.
"Primus Slipstream, turn off the light already," the voice commanded. A blot against the light enlarged as a fuzzy black shadow. When the unforgiving glow disappeared, the figure came into sight. A femme, with solid sapphire-colored armor and flattering adornments to her helm. Her slim shoulderbolts hunched, her servos planted firmly on Megatronus' own. Those silver features he found usually so intriguing were stoic with concentration. However, a deeper side showed within the gentle dip of her optics. A worry that Megatronus knew all too well.
Euphoria's digits slipped over Megatronus' faceplates, expelling the lasting warmth that burnt his features. The scar of his upper left temple pulsed coolly under her trailing grasp. If not for the fact of Megatronus' intense physical ailing and the dislocation of his shoulderbolt, he would have initially of noticed that he was indeed being straddled by Euphoria.
Still he could not move, and he glanced beside him to see his arms held down by metallic bands that appeared to have small cracks lining the sides. Had that been his doing?
"We had to, for your own safety as well as ours," Euphoria murmured regretfully. "You were struggling and harming yourself further. How are you feeling?"
"Not...well," he admitted. Euphoria removed the straps from his wrists and Megatronus sat up, the femme slipping from his lap to kneel between his legs. Her intense optics watched his every move. "But well enough," he finished, rubbing the inflamed wiring in his pivotjoints.
It was awkward for him to maneuver his arm, which hung loose and unresponsive from its socket. When he picked up his limp arm from the table, he held it steady so not to disturb it further. Already it was exhibiting a reaction unlike any he had dealt with before. This was different. It made him feel crippled with only one working arm.
Euphoria must have noticed his determined expression, for her optics went from his faceplates to his oddly sloped arm and a gasp split her lip plates. "Your arm-"
"Is fine," he snapped, growling when another wave hit him. He bowed over his injured appendage and Euphoria attempted to see to it. He would not allow her near it.
"Slagging mech dislocated it," Slipstream hissed irritably from her post at the end of the berth. Her servos remain on her hipbolts, her expression hard. "With the fighting you did, you nearly broke my restraints. Those will have to be repaired."
"I apologize," Megatronus grounded out. He could feel Euphoria watching him, even as he refused to look into her own optics. He would not allow himself to falter in her presence. Both their gazes were trained on him, though he tried avoiding them.
Why was is necessary to hide himself away like this? What shame was he to feel in impairing a medical tool and popping a limb from socket? He had felt, and managed, worse than this. However it was the lingering remnants of his recharge that threw him off balance.
The images burned into the back of his memory core, washing him with a sense of insecurity and anxiety. Tremors rocked his frame when the profile of his murderer passed. A sickness swirled in his tanks to the point where he had to force himself not to purge. With his free servo he wiped away the energon line from his mandible.
What had brought upon such a vision? Cybertronians rarely ever dreamed, and if so, they experienced looks of past memories or alternate forms of ones. An inner discontent was brewing at the overwhelming series of emotions he'd felt at the time. When he ceased the ability to fight back or defend himself, he'd panicked. It was unlike a gladiator to dare allow themselves to panic, under any situation. Megatronus often used it as a tool for himself against opponents, though he never experienced it for himself in the arena. He had been told too many times that it killed. Therefore, he barred its presence in his processor. Then how is it he felt it then, in the influence of impending death?
Megatronus swallowed these silly musings of his and firmly grabbed the upper half of his dislocated arm. Without meeting either gazes of Slipstream or Euphoria, he swiftly jerked his servo upwards as hard as he could.
The loud pop that accompanied it was followed with a low grunt from Megatronus and the immediate shock of the femmes.
"Megatronus!" Euphoria exclaimed in surprise. She ducked close, spreading her shadow across Megatronus' lap. He struggled to stay conscious through the sheen of affliction mugging his processor. The shape of Euphoria's shadow as he hovered over himself, nearly denting his armor with the strength of his grip on his shoulderbolt, became a solid hold for him to feed from. It may have been the single thing that kept him aware.
Although, as soon as the pain had overcome him, it disappeared. Megatronus reclined back hesitantly, opening and closing his servo to test out its mobility. He could feel his digits again, which was good in his opinion.
When he mistakenly glanced upwards, Euphoria was observing him no longer with indifference, but awe. Her comrade on the other servo, must not have felt as amazed. The only warning Megatronus received was of a short series of clapping peds before a strong servo cuffed him on the back of the helm.
Light exploded before his optics and he ducked. "You reckless brute, you could have injured yourself further!" she scolded harshly. Before he could release the retaliation building on his glossa, Megatronus' helm was grabbed by the protrusions and Slipstream snapped it to the side away from his throbbing shoulderbolt. Careful, skilled digits dipped within, massaging the spot and checking for further damaged.
She finally released him and allowed him to cup his arm. "It's not snapped," she reported, walking over to the sink to wash away the grime on her servos. "However it is strained and will need a few orns rest before it can be used properly again. Along with that you will probably be required to restrengthen it prior to your return to the gladiator pits." She turned back to them before shoving her soaked servos under a drying fan.
"Nonetheless the surgery went fairly well," Euphoria chipped in. Her voice was far lighter than that of her comrades, which served as a sort of salve for his spark. It pattered with her sound, urging him nearer though his processor warned to stay away. His game met her own, the sight of her optics boring into his. "Your kneebolt is working perfectly and your recovery time shouldn't be so long with aid of therapy."
He nodded, grateful. "Thank you," he murmured. The purr of his chassis rumbled deep and he silently prayed Euphoria would not pick it up. He cleared his vocal processor to mask it, however, but the look decorating her features, she had indeed picked it up. A slight blush set her cheekplates aglow. It was almost comical to see her so abash.
"Here," a slight nudge jolted Megatronus' shoulderbolt. He glanced up, stealing himself away from the medic still kneeling before him, and saw Slipstream with her arm outstretched. In her grasp was a full cube of energon. "Drink this. It's high grade, so it should ebb the discomfort for awhile."
Megatronus took the cube appreciatively and tilted his helm back to guzzle it down. Sweet, almost burning liquid poured down his throat. A chill over his frame caused him to tremble before a pleasant buzzing drowned out most his former uneasiness.
"You certainly are a roguish medic," he noted as he drug the back of his servo across his lip plates. Calculating optics paused on the sly, narrow faceplates of the femme as he wondered if what he'd allowed himself to do was a mistake. He'd been ignorant to guzzle such a drink without checking its substances first. Since it was high grade, this energon would have easily masked the bitter taste of inherent chemicals. Many times over attempts had been made to stop the spark of the royal family, even if said family was of adopted progeny.
As if reading his thoughts, Slipstream snorted. "Maybe. But at least I am not a distrustful femme of the 'bots that helped me," she quipped.
"Touché," a smirk crossed his features with the last of the energon from his mandible beading off his digits. Already the energon began its work in filtering his thoughts and organizing his processor. He could comprehend clearer now, excusing the occasional fuzz permeating his vision.
Euphoria touched his shoulderbolt with uncertainty and the hulking warrior released a content cycle from his vents. Looking upon her now, the luminescent glow surrounding her obscured the sharpness of her frame, but that didn't halt that fact that she was absolutely, without doubt, the most glorious being he had seen in his life cycle.
Her optics batted at him and he smiled, almost dumbly, with his senseless servo rose up to touch her cheekplate. She froze as he traced the contour of the seams of her features, taking in the subtle swoops and angled edges.
"So...beautiful," he slurred.
"Primus, he's drunk." Who was the giant black blob chuckling at him?
Slowly he blinked, one optic at a time. He then scrunched his optic ridges at the gigantic technopup, fighting to see this being better. A warm presence beneath his touch shifted, causing him to snap back and sway dangerously.
A strong grip caught him before he could tumble and he laughed loudly. "Whoa, watch out, I'ma fallin'!" He chortled at his own joke. A short snort escaped his noseplate. "Whoops, snorted a bit."
"What did you give him?" a sweet tone, one from beside him, demanded. Megatronus' helm lolled around to face the source of it. Pearly faceplates and twin orbs of striking white met his sights.
"Pretty..." he murmured absently. He tried lifting a digit to touch the pretty, but she swatted him away, her arms wrapped tightly around his upper body. His midsection felt as though it was liquid, his spinal support no longer able to keep him upright. A funny tickling started up in his aft and Megatronus grunted, trying to scratch at it.
"High-grade," the weird black and purple technopup responded as she suppressed a giggle.
"What kind of high-grade?" the entity beside Megatronus pried. When he gazed up at her, the sole thought crossing his processor was pretty...
"Just some general stuff..."
"Slipstream..."
"Pretty..."
"Alright, alright...I may have bought from the subterranean market..."
"It's Tarnian?!"
"Just a little!"
Megatronus was startled when the smaller creature next to him suddenly moved so quickly that he proceeded to drop flat to his faceplates. He found no cushioning to soften the collision with his noseplate, and he moaned quietly with his swimming helm. The buzz was now a constant feeling of nothingness.
"You know slagging well that Tarnian energon is three times heavier than medical high-grade," the familiar voice, Euphoria was her name now that he remembered...or was it Ephie? Aria?
"It's perfectly safe for him to consume. I wouldn't have given to him otherwise," Slipstream retorted back, her humor seemingly gone. Megatronus shoved his languid arms under him to push himself up. He immediately plummeted back to the berth.
Aria...Euphoria... sighed impatiently. "But look at him," she persisted. Megatronus groaned and lifted himself limply to an awkward sitting position. Half of himself was sagging sideways, the other following suite in a certain fall.
"I'manot...drunk..." he insisted, his words flowing together sloppily. If Sentinel heard him speak now...his helm hurt just to think of it.
He was acute enough to notice the pointed glare the pretty little Euphoria threw Slipstream's way. The sister of Vos' leader shrugged nonchalantly.
"If he says he's not, he's not," she surmised.
"Slipstream!"
"Fine! Fine. I'll give him a counteractive against the ethanol, but that's all I can really do," Slipstream conceded. Euphoria stared after the femme as the technopup patted away. It was all quite entertaining to watch, this technopup being berated by a giant cybercat...wait...
Euphoria returned to Megatronus' side, her faceplates coming into crisper view when she bowed close to his. They were mounted with worry, which unsettled Megatronus. He didn't like seeing his pretty unhappy. Thinking it was something he did, he lifted a servo and cupped her cheekplate. She smiled and held it there a moment longer, which he took as an acceptance.
As long as she kept smiling he was happy...he liked the way the thin wires of her muzzle fanned out when she grinned. He giggled softly.
"Pretty cybercat..." he garbled.
Euphoria's optics widened and she burst into a fit of laughter, followed by her very much-so intoxicated gladiator.
Megatronus likes his pretty :3
Thought I'd loosen things up a bit with the ending there,
just to make up for my lazy butt not posting anything.
I've really been working hard to get everything together, since my school and my personal life really really hate each other.
But there shall be more! :D
I'm looking forward to hearing what you all think :)
