Chapter 5

Primus Isn't Enough


~Failure in retrieval of logged Chief Medical Officer resulting in mass shutdown in cerebral core processes; proceeding with automatic system evaluation...loading...scanning...scanning...no solutions found - ERROR CODE: 45692 - Replacement of spinal relay system *moderately* recommended; replacement of alimentary structure *highly* recommended; replacement of electrovascular systems and/or programs *highly* recommended; Beginning of core meltdown reoperation commencing in...ten clicks...nine...eight... ERROR CODE: 0919024 Sustaining from consulting Chief Medical Officer resulting in *Fatality* for over *five* clicks...~


24,691 Vorns, 11 quartexes, 3 groons before:

This orn was not a good one.

And Megatronus was adamant on revitalizing such disastrous events taking place so far. The breaching of their star over Cyberton's horizon usually brought him such pleasure and joy to of lived another groon, or orn for that matter. The scars he recalled not where they had come from warmed under the rays and tingles when he brushed his sharp digits over them. He'd travel to the depositor down the hall and sit with Orian and Sentinel, discussing their lessons later those joors. And everything had begun this way. Such was the pattern of his life cycle.

A newer sense of tensity had developed between Megatronus and Sentinel ever since the Prime had stricken him. Betrayal was forefront of his processor when recalling the incident. However the larger mech simply refused acknowledgment that it had happened, and blatantly avoided it around Orian. A sort of truce had befallen them for their younger peer's interest.

The youthful red and blue apprentice understood the things happening around him without any needing inform him. It was his curiosity and intellect that allowed him such ease in assessing the situations such as this. And it was a skill appreciated greatly in archivists.

However, it would often leave him appearing awkward and uncomfortable as he sat playing with his early orn energon between his adoptive Prime and brother. His inquiries remained slimmer than before; the depth of his yearning for knowledge seemed to dwindle in these waning groons. And as such, it was a relief when Sentinel suggested they have their lesson in the Hall of Records later the orn.


Megatronus agreed to venue with them during the time, and made his way to the pits. Naturally he expected to have a match, and was not disappointed when the bright yellow femme came to his quarters and asked for his presence in the arena. He'd followed behind, as he did every orn, waited by the gates, and prepared himself. Certainly the procedure would have been repetitive by now. It was necessary.

Megatronus wished unlike anything before to be High Lord Protectorate of Cybertron. This position filled their orns surveying crimes in the city-states and sending off batches of reinforcement if needed. They supervised conferences and handled foreign or off-worldly matters in place of their Prime. And when needed they provided utmost care for the clutch units in Praxus and other city-states, and handled funding for the impoverished. Currently the Protectorate was Beta, an older femme that spent more time off her world than on it.

And to replace her in that position, Megatronus hoped to scale through the lowest of the low on his home world to better understand their struggles. He wanted to fix the wrongs done and properly establish enforcement here, where his kind stand, instead of making speeches and filling debts on other planets. And one of the best parts of this profession allowed him to do was stand beside his brother as Orian would later became Prime of Cybertron.

For now he would fight. He could only do so for the sake of his species, if only to fully grasp the concept of true hardship. It had groomed him into the mech he was now. Though it stripped any innocence that may have remained in his frame, he had become a better mech because of it. Or so he hoped.

A certain hardship he dared not speak outwardly about was the concept of the processor's state after such experimentation. As a champion, he was allowed to travel back and forth from the pits to his domicile. These other gladiators, ones he often considered his brethren, were not permitted such luxuries.

When he walked down that hallway, back to his quarters, trailing the same bright yellow femme from before, he grasped the complete idea of struggle. As she continued on, he paused, standing before a single cell that was lit dimly by only the light of their star through the tiny window in the back. A heavy black mass floated in the center of it, inches off the ground. Drying energon flickered like flame across Megatronus' frame when he leaned near. The sword in his servo clattered to the floor just as the tiny yellow femme next to him gave a shrill scream.


A sharp jab to his tanks knocked Megatronus from his stupor. He was staring off into the unknown, his digits clamped around a holocube on the shelves. Orian stand beside him, a few of his own devices clutched by his chassis. Azure optics tremored from side to side, taking in the expression of his taller comrade. Megatronus huffed and brought his arm back to take the holocube from the shelf. It came free in a cloud of dust, making both mechs hack.

Megatronus waved a servo before him to get rid of the choking substance. Orian was doubled over, the holocubes once in his digits now scattered on the floor.

"You would assume-" Orian cut off in another fit of coughs, "that Sentinel would place us in a section more...up-to-date than this."

"You obviously do not know of Sentinel's wish to torture us with these lethal conditions," Megatronus teased as he revved his vents to get rid of the remaining particles. Orian snorted and bent over to retrieve his holocubes from the floor.

"You are exaggerating, dear brother," he chided lightly, brushing off the top of his cube with a disgusted expression. Megatronus smirked and blew on the device, causing most the dust to fly into Orian's faceplates. The cyberling's optics widened and then snapped shut, his vents heaving once again. The gladiator's laugh filled up the space as his younger sibling tried ridding himself of the bothersome substance.

Orian's optics opened again to glare at Megatronus, but the ashen warrior couldn't help chuckling at the liquid brimming on the student's optics slips. "And you, dear brother, do not exaggerate enough," he said, patting Orian's helm.

The cyberling reared away from his brother's playful gesture and huffed indignantly before pivoting on his heelpeds. Megatronus rolled his optics and smiled at the back of Orian's helm as he returned to their table.

It was already stacked full of holocubes and compads, mainly the bulk of them to the right, which Orian had claimed as his side early on. Megatronus' side was but a group of ten or so compads and two holocubes.

Alpha Trion's cranial unit suddenly poked out from the end of the shelves and he peered around at them both curiously. "I heard coughing over here. Are you both alright?" he questioned. Orian nodded and grinned, even as his optics continued to shimmer with irritated tears. The elder mech gave a dip of his helm and jerked out of sight, disappearing without another word.

Orian joined Megatronus at his side and the gladiator screwed in his optic slips, still watching the place where Trion had exited. "He is a strange being, isn't he?"

"Genius, yes. Strange...yes as well," Orian admitted in defeat. He sifted through the compads at his height, avoiding the piles of dust sitting around the corners. "However Alpha Trion is a highly capable scholar and somebot I trust highly."

"Still strange though," Megatronus responded, getting a pointed glare from his comrade. Orian and Megatronus fell silent during their searching, neither willing to strike up nonsense conversation about the latest fashions or general weather of Cybertron. They were content in the lack of speech, and Megatronus found himself at peace for a rare moment in the presence of his brother.

Together they shifted and idly wasted away time while looking for Primus knows what. Sentinel had granted them the project of researching primal behaviors of earlier-age Cybertronians and their swift convergence into beings who thirsted for each other's energon. They were meant to study the shipping patterns of the time and any strategic meaning behind various actions.

Basically, they were judging the logic behind the First Great War.

Megatronus found a generally interesting compad toward the back of the shelf and made his way to the table to sit and read. Each mech was to construct a ten-page chapter of their findings to turn in to Sentinel. So far Megatronus had yet to begin his own, and Orian was still to read a single one of his devices.

The gladiator took one scan of the subject matter on the compad he'd opened and tossed it back onto the stacks of other compads. Orian made his way to his own side, his arms full of five or so holocubes. They overflowed his pile and ended up tumbling the structure. A few stray cubes rolled across the floor and under the table.

"Must you have so many?" Megatronus asked, watching in amusement as his brother fumbled for the scattering cubes and compads. He grunted and abruptly sat up, slamming the back of his helm into the underside of the table. Megatronus could hold back the laughs swelling in his chassis.

Orian appeared again with one optic closed in pain and his servo rubbing the spot on his helm he'd hit. "The more I read, the less time it will take me to construct the project," he insisted. He narrowed his optics at his silver sibling as the large mech's chair creaked backwards in his chortling. Megatronus grabbed his sore tanks and fixed his brother with shining optics.

"True, true," he agreed. "Although the time it will take you to finish reading those will take away from your writing."

"Worry of your own progress Megatronus," the cyberling bit irritably. Megatronus lifted his servos in a placating gesture and returned to his compad.

The material was worse the further he went into it. He found his processor drifting off to earlier events of his life cycle instead of skimming the words. The glyphs faded into one another while he thought, his CPU moving along on easy breezes though his memories.

His features became thoughtful when he reached the file he'd marked as 'Euphoria', and he gently pressed it, meaning to quickly revisit his files of the femme medic. However, before he could, a newer set of loose thoughts intercepted him and ripped him away from his files. It was a vision of the image he'd seen earlier in the orn, after his match in the arena. It burned the compounds of his cranial unit and singed the edges of his wires. When he pictured it clearer, it sent a shock down his relay. It took him a nanoclick to realize that he was visibly trembling, the compad locked tight in his digits.

Its screen was black and the corner was cracked slightly. A chill overcame him and his venting ceased. His spark skipped in his chamber in a flurry of motion too quick for him to count. His energon roared in his audios and muffled the line of his processes. Knots formed in his tanks as he became increasingly unsettled.

"Megatronus, are you feeling alright?" Orian's voice snapped Megatronus back into reality and the mech jolted, dropping the compad. It fell to the floor, shattering the screen.

"Slag," he spat, bending over to pick what was left of it from the ground. He carefully collected the shards and brushed them onto the surface of the table beside the broken compad. It would have to be replaced.

Megatronus' piercing gaze skipped upwards to meet with Orian's, who could be seen staring at the gladiator sternly. The compad he'd been reading was set aside and the one he wrote his report on remain idle, his stylus floating patiently above. An age far beyond that of Orian's time played out terribly over his faceplates. Faceplates that should have been laden with happiness and youth than the pressure of bearing the mantle as future Prime. No cyberling should have to of been placed in a position such as he.

"I'm fine," Megatronus lied, peeling his optics away from the disturbingly prying ones of his peer. "Go back to studying."

"You are lying," Orian accused flatly. "There is something wrong."

"No, Orian, there is n-"

"Do not try distilling the truth from me Megatronus," the apprentice snapped. Megatronus' mandible closed and he slowly reclined in his seat, observing Orian in surprise. The red and blue progeny was putting up quite the front to intimidate his gladiator brother. However the mech had known him for too long. They'd spent too much time at each other's sides, upgrading as two of the same being.

The silver warrior folded his servos in his lap and nodded respectfully at Orian. "You will make a fine Prime," he noted. The way Orian placed control over a situation so quickly was vital for his future stature. It was impressive to see the strength behind his words, though his optics spoke of a deeper concern. It would have to be his duty later on to place such walls in the sake of his followers. He'd have to learn how to lie.

"You are concerned for me, I know. However some things are better left unsaid, brother," he explained firmly. His tone was clearly warning Orian to not overstep boundaries, but the archivist remained vigilant in his unquenchable questioning.

"Please, Megatronus, I wish to know," he pleaded. Megatronus shook his helm from side to side.

"No Orian, my business is my own and if you-"

"Megatronus, I need to know so I may help you through-"

"Do not interrupt me Orian," Megatronus' voice was strong and direct, his volume carrying over that of Orian's. Outmatched, the cyberling sat back in his chair and shut his lip plates. He finally seemed to grip the heaviness in Megatronus' words and he relinquished to the dominance of his brother.

Megatronus sighed and drug a servo over his fatigued features before looking to the table. "Brother, I carry more secrets than you could ever comprehend. Vastly, the majority of them remain with my intervals spent in the pits. I know you do not wish to, nor could you handle, them. That is why I must protect you from them." he lifted his faceplates, resting his chin in his palm.

Orian's mandible visibly tensed, his optics flaring defiantly. Something was stirring in this mech that hadn't been before. He was coming dangerously close to becoming victim to the tales of the pits, such as Megatronus was. He swore he would prevent that from happening.

"I am no longer a youngling Megatronus, and as such, I am perfectly able to hear your story," Orian placed a fist on the table, rustling the compads on either side of it. His report came close to tipping over the ledge. This newer side of his sibling confounded Megatronus. He didn't understand where the flames had came from, dancing in his optics, or the commanding edge to his tone that had become profoundly steadier over these groons.

"What has gotten into you?" he demanded of his younger brother.

The archivist was but a symbol of all that Megatronus vowed to save. He wished to mold Cybertron into the image of Orian, whom showed nothing but honor and peace. All beings dwelling on this planet had the responsibility of showcasing such qualities, though fewer than some did. Orian was a legendary thing meant to be sheltered.

Or was he? Could a Prime be a good one without knowing of his people's condition?

"I am weary of this facade yourself and Sentinel continuously put up for me when I ask of Cybertron's issues," Orian informed, his shoulderbolts sagging slightly. The fire died marginally in his optics to the cooler hue it usually was. A grim sadness gripped the aura surrounding him. It was now that Megatronus wished he held a real sparkling bond with Orian, if but to know what he was thinking at the moment.

"We do it for your protection," Megatronus ground out. It wasn't like him to defend the Prime, but now was different.

"But I need to know to be Prime, Megatronus!" Orian insisted. "You leave every orn before I even awake to travel to the pits and slay a fellow Cybertronian for the sake of study. You do this so you may become a better Protectorate. Why can I not be a better Prime?"

"That is different Orian, and you know that," Megatronus answered coldly.

"How Megatronus? How is it?"

"Orian-"

"These games you and Sentinel play are tiresome Megatronus. I merely wish to understand my kind better, if only to serve them to the best of my abilities some orn."

"And you will. However my accountings from the pits are not such a wise position to start from."

"And why is that?" Orian requested harshly. His servos were balled up and his handsome faceplates were twisted in frustration. "Why must I be contained in these walls," he swung an arm around him at the Hall of Records, "when other must suffer on the corners of our streets and have their pleas go unheard? Why must I be pampered when they must starve and waste away?"

Megatronus raised a servo, anger boiling inside of him. He forced the aggravation down his throat when it attempted to escape as a feral growl. The gladiator beat so forcibly into him was scratching at his restraints, struggling to be free. His glossa writhed with venomous words. The truth surfaced in his processor and he, for but an astrosecond, wondered if it may be best if he spoke it. Orian did deserve it. However, he didn't deserve it now.

"Orian," he warned.

"Megatronus I want to know the truth. I want you to enlighten me on my brethren in the pits, how they are behaving - the treatments they receive. It cannot be pleasant, I'm sure, however I wish to know," Orian's optic ridges knitted together and his servos opened pleadingly.

Megatronus shook his helm with a finality he was certain would stop Orian's pestering. "You do not wish to know, trust me Orian," he growled.

"But I do!"

"Orian."

"Megatronus, my point remains. I wish for you to tell me and cease this endless game between you and Sentinel against me." Orian promptly stood, shaking the table. Megatronus winced from behind his digits and sunk the tips into his helm. No, he couldn't tell. Orian didn't understand and his adolescent pride was taking over. He wasn't processing straight.

"Tell me," Orian commanded.

"No, Orian-"

"Megatronus I will find out eventually, and by who better than my own energon and iron? I would rather it be you to inform me than those unworthy of my trust. Please."

"Stop, Orian. Please quit this incessant impertinence," Megatronus could feel himself breaking. He cringed against the burning optics of his brother, squeezing his own shut to quell the oncoming cranialache.

Orian groaned, making Megatronus twitch. "Better a Prime filthy with knowledge than aloof with ignorance, correct Megatronus? Those are your own words, are they not? Then explain it to me. Inform me."

"I cannot, Orian."

"Yes you can. Is there perhaps somebot threatening you, or telling you to hide this from us, or-or-or harassing you? I can get Ironhide to take care of it for you. He is a close friend of mine. Or maybe Ultra Magnus," Orian had begun to pace before Megatronus.

"That won't be necessary..."

"May be there is some way I may convince Sentinel to shut down the pits," Orian went on, ignoring Megatronus. "He could send better servalience to oversee those who get sent there for a proper trial. Or Alpha Trion! He could help!"

"Orian..."

"Ariel. I shall speak with her and she may have ideas. I wish to know who and want transpires in those pits and give the gladiators their proper rights-"

"A mech hung himself."

Orian immediately froze mid-step. His lip plates hung open and his optics refused to shutter. The stiffness in his frame conveyed his utter shock. Megatronus simply stared at his brother, watching between his digits. Deathly seriousness blanketed the gladiator's features when he mercilessly threw such raw information at his ignorant peer.

The space between them seemed to widen by the wide of a planet. A sense of detachment hit Megatronus harder than ever before. Never before had he felt so disconnected from Orian. The remembrance that they were not true brothers stung his spark. His very core gnarled viciously with the horror building in Orian's optics. The cyberling's innocence shattered right before Megatronus' very optics.

"Excuse me?" the apprentice whispered almost too softly to hear. Megatronus noted the break in his tone and he mentally cursed himself for dare uttering a word. Snarling, he threw his helm to the side and leapt to his peds.

He turned himself away from Orian to protect himself from the look playing out in them. They could be felt searching Megatronus' spinal support. His shoulderbolts hunched and he curled his digits inward, the fists shaking at his sides.

"A mech...hung himself earlier this orn," Megatronus repeated monotonously. "A good, stable mech Orian. I knew him. His designation was Tirade. He was kind and humble and deserved so much better..." Megatronus trailed off and his helm sunk into his shoulderbolts. His optics squeezed tightly shut. He felt almost nauseated speaking now. The black mass hanging from the ceiling came to his processor and his optics ripped open before they would be stained with the image.

He couldn't think of the limp frame of the once so lively Tirade. He couldn't recall the unnatural angle of the mech's helm, or the way his chassis appeared so sharply yanked. He wouldn't allow himself to imagine the thick cord wrapped around Tirade's neck, attaching him to a beam in the ceiling; or the dressings on the berth, in a mess from where Tirade had jumped; or the energon dripping from his wrist where he had slit it to write a message on the desk.

Orian hadn't the time to respond before Megatronus went on, almost angrily. "But he was scared. He was weak and decided to commit suicide to escape something he hadn't the strength to handle. He could not cope with the pressures of the pits or the thought that he may never taste freedom again."

"And he was weak for that?" Orian murmured. He was closer now. Megatronus could feel the essence of the cyberling hovering near. A servo laid on his bracer and Megatronus wrenched off, stepping a few feet away to escape the stifling influence Orian omitted.

"That is what the others would call him," Megatronus' helm tilted back and he settled for staring at the ceiling above. The lights blinded him when he looked directly at them, but he would have much rather taken that abuse than bring himself to share a glance with Orian again. "And that is the real world you so desperately wish to understand. Don't you see, it is all for themselves there. There is no happiness in the pits. There is no surreal fantasy where a mech will come into the arena and have both opponent and challenger walk away. One dies. That's it."

The shadow of a civilian passed by overhelm in the upper balconies. It appeared to be a higher caste femme. She wandered around before grabbing a holocube and disappearing behind the soaring shelves.

Megatronus suddenly gave a laugh and smiled against the burning lights. "You are a Prime coming into a corrupted planet, Orian. Heed my words when I tell you, it is not the visions Sentinel has relayed to you that you may come to rule over. If it is your utmost wish that I inform you of the true world..." he swallowed the lump as best he could. "It is my duty to oblige."

He looked back at Orian to see the cyberling's helm bowed to his chassis. His optics were downcast and his servos were raised before him. Pure terror covered every palpable inch of his frame. It poured across the length dividing him and his gladiator brother. The stench of his sadness choked Megatronus and took the smirk right off his lip plates.

Quickly, he strode forward. Without a second thought he took Orian into his arms and brought him as close as their armor would allow. The archivist in turn took little time in winding his arms around the wideness of Megatronus' midsection. Regret clung stubbornly onto Megatronus' spark and he internally recoiled at himself for what he had done. Hadn't it been his promise to keep Orian out of this? Wasn't he not to know of Cyberton's true form until adulthood?

Megatronus felt sick inside.

"I'm sorry, Orian," he muttered against the archivist's neck. Orian nodded and held on tighter to his brother. Megatronus returned the gesture and slowly rocked the mech side to side comfortingly. They hadn't embraced like this for some time now. It was nostalgic for the gladiator, and slightly saddening as well. It put in perspective just how far they were growing apart.

"Yes, Megatronus," Orian mumbled by the gladiator's audio. Megatronus screwed in his optic ridges and pulled back, looking Orian in the faceplates. The mech's optics shone with tears from more than the dust. But his expression was hard and emotionless.

"Yes, what Orian?"

"Yes, I want you to tell me. I want to know. I want to know...everything," he vented unsteadily. For a moment Megatronus simply stared. He couldn't believe his audios. The events he'd been dreading for so long now were coming upon him. Orian was upgrading into the being he'd never wished him to be. Where was the warmth, the passion for serenity?

But instead of questioning it, Megatronus nodded dumbly. His frame had gone numb, yet he somehow managed to bring Orian closer again. There they hugged until Sentinel found them on the floor. They left there that orn with a shadow over them that Megatronus would feel forever more.

"How is your kneebolt doing?" Euphoria linked her arm through the mech's as they passed by a lone mech sitting on a bench, reading a compad.

Megatronus smiled and waved the pivotjoint for demonstration. "I feel nothing now. It is intensely better," he informed.

On an orn such as this, Cybertron's star shining bright and warm down upon their frames, Megatronus hadn't a worry in the worlds. A beautiful femme waltzed by his side, hung on his arm. The Helix Gardens were magnificent in the dying light - coated in fiery oranges and scarlet. A new breeze had picked up around them, whistling through the incredible crystal formations with a lulling tune.

Megatronus could feel Euphoria purring against him, her chassis drawn entrancingly close to his bracer. In a single action she broke the spell, slipping her arm around his to hold his servo. The petiteness of her limb compared to his was intriguing. His digits nearly doubled hers, while she barely passed the height of his waist. Her noble blue paint clashed nicely with his ashy silver armor, while her sweeter features balanced out the ruggedness of his. They were a sight to behold.

And some did stop to send a look the couple's way. Few times had the Prime's adopted progeny taken to the public. So with a new femme on his arm, scars marring his still-healing front, and a happier gleam in his optics, a rare few could simply pass by without care.

The attention was beginning to get on the mech's last wire, and he bit back the urg to roar at the gawking Cybertronian tourists. Maybe it was the soft touch laid upon his bracer. Or, it could have been the delicate digits laced in his.

Euphoria patted his arm at a length in their stroll, catching his attention. She was smiling up at him without a care on Cybertron. The contentment in her optics settled his spark at once, the subtle way her faceplates scrunched in her smiling making his tense plates relax.

"Don't mind them, Megatronus," she said soothingly, squeezing his servo.

The Gladiator frowned and turned back to their walk, seeing yet another femme and mech staring at them as they went by. "They are all staring..."

"Let them," Euphoria decided suddenly, cupping his cheekplate and bringing his faceplates to aim at hers. "Just focus on me. Focus on this. Us."

As much as he wished to deny the request, in consideration of his previous aggravation against those around them, his lip plates refused to move. Euphoria spoke of them as a single entity, as if she expected them as such a couple of some sort. A pair.

Though the though sent a pleasant tingle down his spinal support, he swept it away immediately. Euphoria was a temporary presence. She could only stay at his side until he quenched his interests in her. The instance he understood her odd attraction to him, despite his being a gladiator and overall imposing figure, he would leave her to her own life. It was fair in his processor to let the femme go once his needs had been exhausted, including the fact that as High Protectorate, he could have no femme keeping him distracted. Preparing his processor for the strenuous examinations and selection process would be straining in itself. Worrying about another would add unnecessary weight.

For now, she fascinated him. His own reactions to her nearness -the way his frame heated when she touched him; each buzz through his energon as though they were licked with electricity when she smiled at him; a fluttering in his spark as her servo brushed his armor with her examinations- marked his attentions most. An inner instinct had arisen in him, a quite primitive nature inside himself, marking Euphoria as his own the moment his optics laid on her form. Ratchet had invoked a strange sensation in him akin to jealousy, but that couldn't be right. Megatronus had yet to experience such a feeling in his life cycle. The emotion was similar to what he'd heard of in his studies of the fictional pieces he snuck in-between assignments. Sentinel knew of the holocubes logged with fictional tales Megatronus kept with him, yet he did nothing against them. One of the better sides of the Prime was that he supported creativity.

Did creativity count as a live study? Would Sentinel Prime have approved Megatronus having a lower-caste femme on his arm for the sake of bettering himself? He didn't plan on having her near for long, if but simply to further his understanding of the other side of their species. Femmes were intriguing creatures, being so different from mechs as they were. Megatronus merely wished to understand why.

"There you go again," Euphoria murmured. Megatronus snapped from his revere and shuttered his optics a few times into the distance. They were in a new place, where Megatronus hadn't even realized they'd moved. He was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't paid any attention to around him. His optic ridges screwed in and he glanced down at Euphoria, who was watching him intently.

"What is it you mean?" he asked.

"You drift often, Megatronus. To places I have no knowing of, for breems at a time. You become focused on nothing else, as if your walls have blocked any sense of the outside worlds." Euphoria let go of his servo and started into the maze of crystal.

The waning strength of the star Cybertron orbited sent a blazing brilliance across the skies. In Praxus, the smoke of modern technology had yet to sink in, and so the pureness of the heavens remained clear. It let the scarlet magnificence of the setting star set fire to the surface of Cybertron and let translucent yellow beams shoot off the edges of the crystals. Usually a faded blue color, the crystals now shone in a symphony of golden rays.

Megatronus followed Euphoria into the field of crystals, finding her rich, sapphire frame easy to tract in the clusters of flame. Her servos were held in the small of her spinal support, her long legs swinging smoothly with each stride she took. The curves of her armor played well off her protoform, which peeked teasingly through the seams. In one moment, Megatronus was busy admiring her form. In the next, she was gone. Just like that.

The mech started in surprise and stopped mid-step. A single action by the femme had allowed her to slip from his sights, disappearing completely without trace. He stepped forward to where she had last been and swept his helm from side to side, searching for where his company had gone. A few stray Cybertronian strollers were making their way to exit the maze, passing him by without notice. The femme he sought however was no where to be found.

"How did these crystals come about Cybertron?" Euphoria's voice came from his left, and Megatronus' cranial unit jerked to his other side. "They are so beautiful." A flash of blue met his view. He started forward after her, craning his neck about the paths of crystals, only to come up empty.

"Sentinel Prime had them transported here," Megatronus responded as he examined, in utter perplexity, how his femme could leave so suddenly. "Special caretakers nurtured them and brought them up to their current condition."

"They're so old..."

"Elder than I, it seems."

A giggle picked up to his right. Megatronus changed direction.

"Perhaps I shouldn't be courting with such an older gentlemech," she teased. Megatronus whipped around as the femme sounded from behind him. Her happy faceplates beamed up at him as he turned. Before he could react, she lifted onto her toelinks and planted a sweet, gentle kiss on his lip plates. A spell overtook Megatronus' processor as he leant into her gesture, his optic slips lazily closing. She pulled away, leaving him to fall forward slightly after her. Two circles of heat bloomed from the spot on his chassis where she had supported her weight against him. But when his optic slips had opened again, she was missing.

"I was a youngling when I first came here," Megatronus retorted back to the air. He gave up trying to find his femme and instead wandered through the crystals, knowing she wouldn't be far away. "Sentinel had them implanted long ago, into the first vorns of his leadership. I'm not as old as you may assume."

A draft of breeze hit him from his side, catching his attention. He continued on nonetheless, quirking an amused smirk. "You are quite the specimen for your age, however lengthy that may be," Euphoria commented from nearby. Megatronus saw the color of navy pass by the peripherals of his right optic.

"Do you always tease such mechs this way?"

"No, not all of them," navy clashed against fiery golden, "You're special."

At this moment, Megatronus ripped to the side and grabbed the sneaky femme from behind a crystal. She squeaked, loud and piercing, as his arms wrapped tightly around her. They locked her in place and prevented her from escaping him. Being trapped like this triggered her struggling, the small fists pinned to his chassis wriggling. Smiling in accomplishment, Megatronus latched his digits onto Euphoria's armoring and kept up a solid grip on her petite frame. His helm ducked low to hers, causing her to freeze.

"Caught you," he growled in satisfaction, making her grumble in displeasure.

"Let me go, you villain," she demanded, renewing her writhing. Megatronus frowned at Euphoria, bringing back his cranial unit to look down on the pouting femme with feigned hurt.

"Now, now," he cooed tauntingly. "Is that any way to speak to your captor?"

The femme in his arms relaxed into him, placing distracting servos flat against his chassis. The thin digits slipped beneath his armor, fiddling with the wiring underneath. Her vents vibrated lowly and sent shocking spikes of heat up his spinal relay. Those stubborn features melted to a complacent grin. A mischievous light trickled into the white of her optics as the digits of one of her servos softly traced the contours of his armor.

"Please, please let me go?" she attempted, turning her optics on his own. Megatronus fought to stay focused off the femme's exploring touch. His arms accidentally loosened, letting the lithe medic slip her arms up around the back of his neck.

They stayed incredibly close to one another, however didn't kiss. Their lip plates hovered within a vent away from each other, each quiver of their features noticeable by their partner. Their frames touched from chassis to toelinks, Euphoria having to stand on her toelinks slightly to get to Megatronus comfortably. His servos slipped down her spinal support, resting on her hipbolts. She didn't react to his movement, merely coming insanely close to his lip plates.

"Megatronus..." her voice could have burst the gladiator's audios then and there. His spark was speeding at unfathomable levels, the energy pulsing through his lines burning across his limbs. The urge from those groons ago, that had pushed him into doing such brash things, crept back into his processor. It took over himself with overwhelming force, knocking him ventless with the sheer power of it.

Warmth clouded his processor to the point where he could process nothing else but the want - the need. Such a real body against him drove him into places of himself he never recalled from before. It had been only a quartex of their meeting. A single, minute, quartex. How was it that this femme could drag him to his kneebolts, turn him to putty with barely a lift of her digit, or send his spark thrumming with more life than it had when he'd been created? Her presence alone brought his processor to that one orn; a time when he was beginning to know this creature and what she held. They hadn't connected like that since that lunar fall, allowing themselves to discover one another slowly, and more in-depth before they attempted something as brash as that again.

Could they bring themselves to do it again? Here, in the Helix Gardens, where but the orbiting lunar moons could see them? Had Megatronus the trust in himself to save this experience for but a studious purpose, and not personal? Was it possible for a mech to give up so much of himself to a femme, and yet claim their was no feeling between them? He had to. He must. It was for the better.

Contracting his optic ridges, Megatronus aimed his lip plates away from Euphoria, who lifted to kiss him. She dropped back to her heelpeds with confusion marring her faceplates.

"Megatronus?" she murmured, causing the mech's lip plates to turn down further. "What's wrong?"

Without warning the mech released her. He placed as much space as he dared to separate them, plummeting the heat in his frame when the body beside his was taken away. He avoided her prying gaze, and blatantly ignored the way she held her arms concernedly to her chassis.

"This," he bit from behind close oral sheets. "This is wrong. Whatever is developing here is wrong."

A flash of hurt crossed the depth of her optics. Those same optics of which held such power over his spark. Those optics of which guided him in the direction upon his darkest joors in the pits. Clashing with enemies far beyond his capability, her profile adhered to his processor, calling on him to survive. If but to make it pass the pits and collect her into his arms again, he fought unlike ever before in the arena. She knew who he was - what he did.

Why would she care for anything he did? Why would she let herself near a gladiator such as him, fully aware of what he was capable of? It didn't make sense. It wasn't logical. It frustrated him trying to understand what glitch this femme must have had to find him, of all mechs, suitable for her attentions. The residue of which secreted from the tar holes of Kaon appeared more pleasing to the processor than dare finding him attractive to be around. Anger filtered through his lines, cycled through his spark, and sent a searing wave under his armor. Why? That was always the fragging question. Why.

"Megatronus, I-"

"I should never have granted you with my contact," he commented hotly. "I allowed myself to foolishly bring you into a world you could never understand. You must have a glitch for contriving such an idea as finding me manageable." Megatronus' servos gestured to himself as his voice grew deep in aggravation. Most, if not all, his irritation was aimed at himself. He couldn't figure this femme or her reasons for staying at his side, and that annoyed him to no end. She had yet to explain her story to him, leading further into dark, obscured theories. There had yet to be a limit on the possibilities she could have for staying here this long. One, an idea lodged far, deep, into the back of his processor, warned that she maybe lingering for the credits. As a noble, Megatronus lived lavishly. This wouldn't be the first time a femme offered herself to him for credit.

But she didn't appear that way. Out of all of them, Euphoria had seemed the most sincere. To place such distrust upon her made his own spark writhe uncomfortably in guilt. The glint of her wide, frightened optics twisted his tanks and threatened to break his current anger.

"You are a fine mech," Euphoria murmured, edging toward him. "Whoever claims differently is the one glitched."

"What I do is-"

"Is a noble cause," she interrupted, closing the distance between them. "I know who you are, Megatronus, progeny of Sentinel Prime. You needn't be in the pits, yet you are, meaning there are reasons behind your actions. I know you better than that, Megatronus." she reached for his servo, but he pulled away. That ire inside of himself had turned to shame.

Perhaps it wasn't she who was glitched, but him.

He was the mech killing those he some orn wanted to protect. He was the one living a lie as a champion of the gladiator pits, while a second life awaited him outside those doors. And he was the one lolling around with a caring femme on his arm while his supposed brethren suffered in shackles at the mercy of civilian entertainment.

"You are in danger near me. Whether that danger be I or another, either is a threat for your life," Megatronus murmured, stopping Euphoria in her tracks. He averted his gaze from her, unable to place such private qualms on her innocent spark. "Some orn I wish to protect you, along with others, yet I may not do that with you unable to forgive me if you ever saw what I did. I let myself believe, if but for a moment, that there could be something between us. I used you for experiment," the femme's faceplates twisted into pain at this, "merely so I may enlighten my knowledge of the femme kind, rather than realize I held your actual fancy."

"I have witnessed what gladiators can do. I treat them, do I not?" Euphoria demanded sternly. "And if you wished to understand what it was I thought of you, you could have simply asked me."

Megatronus' optics slips snapped shut and his oral sheets gritted. His helm shook from side to side and he turned away from her. "No, no, don't," he told her. "You don't. You may think you do, but you don't."

"Megatronus-"

"You are better off without me," he began away, not allowing himself to change his processor. "If you are smart, you will stay away."

"Let me tell you, I am not the smartest femme," she called at his spinal support. He paused for a split second, loosing a step. With a disbelieving sigh, he continued on through the maze, leaving the femme he'd strived so hard to take away from another, behind.