Others still looked askance at her, questions in their optics that would never escape their vocaliser. It annoyed her frequently that while staring was considered ruder than a politely-worded inquiry, it was considered more acceptable in her creators' circle of society than quickly and cleanly satisfying their curiosity would be.

Much to their horror (her creators'; with some amusement she suspected their friends of being delighted to have something new about her to gossip over), she accepted a job that suited her and her tough frame- that of a dockworker. She moved from her creators' area to one far less affluent. She got used to the heavy lifting and transporting of cargo from one ship to another, or to one of the many warehouses in the trade circle; her frame was as strong as a mid-sized mech even if she tended to be taller than most of them, and there were few jobs that she was physically incapable of handling.

She was pleasantly surprised when on the first cycle, one of the mechs walked straight up to her and asked "What kinda glitch are you, then? Poor or just crazy?"

With a grin, she answered. "Neither. I'm just me. Aurora Pax." She held out her hand to him.

He extended his own, shaking her hand firmly. "Don't be expecting no special treatment on account of being a femme. You got the struts for it, you do the work, understand?"

Aurora Pax nodded once, sharply, grin not diminishing. He smiled himself then, releasing her hand and clapping her on the shoulder. "I'm Dion. I'm gonna be showing you the wires; try to keep up."

He spun and started walking over to the lifting machinery, talking all the while. Aurora Pax shoved the happy feeling in her processor to the side to revel in later, and ran to catch up, asking questions when he started using dialects she didn't understand.

"Primus, were you raised in the Towers?" Dion finally asked after the fifth time.

"No," she shot back, a little affronted. "But I wasn't raised around here, either."

He gave her a thorough once-over, from cranium to peds and back up. "Shoulda figured. Your frame's strange, but not cheap."

"It's me," Aurora Pax insisted stubbornly, refusing to let his judgement affect her. Something must have shown in her optics, because his expression softened ever so slightly.

"Hm." He cocked his cranium to the side, considering. "Yeah," he finally said. "It is, you glitchy, misfit, high-grade swilling excuse for a mid-circle socialite."

Her mouth fell open; she couldn't help it. Then she noticed his smirk and understood. "Glad you agree, you pitch-dunked, oil-drinking spawn of rust and a turbo-rat." She raised an optic ridge, lifted her cranium a little: challenge sent.

Dion ignored it with a chuckle and clapped her on the shoulder again. "We," he stated mirthfully, "Are going to be brilliant."

She laughed, and clapped him one back. "Frag yes," she agreed. Then she pointed to the narclet that had started their argument. "Now how does this work again?"

Aurora Pax had never discriminated when it came to interfacing- she also never wondered if this was because of the impressions left on her spark or if it would have happened anyway.

She'd experimented with her third frame, testing out what felt good, and with a couple of mechs who were interested until they realised that most of the time, she couldn't get into it. The lag-time between sensor and reaction confused some and insulted others- while it normally felt okay, and yes, that relay was quite sensitive, actually, the difference between a femme frame and a mech CPU had never been so pronounced as when she had to guide them to her hotspots which due to the nature of her circuitry, were in similar places to theirs rather than where they were expecting.

Then there were the times when the feeling just didn't register with her mech-CPU because it couldn't compute it. No other Cybertronian had ever brought her to overload because the things that should have worked for her frame didn't for her CPU and normally became junk data that was compartmentalised and deleted in short order.

Her fourth frame was a whole new experience, as she discovered when after a cycle of heavy drinking, she and Dion fell into the same berth. Her recollection was patchy from the high-grade they'd consumed, but she remembered the blissful feeling of having someone else overload her for the first time, and being able to react honestly and immediately to his touches.

(She also remembered him cursing her out luridly when in return, she went straight for the most commonly sensitive areas on a mech frame, knowing where they were from personal experience, and reducing him to a pile of strutless scrap in short order.)

They'd onlined the next cycle still intertwined, sharing uncertain, sheepish grins until Dion gathered his ball bearings and admitted that while it was a fragging good benefit, he wasn't really looking to make any more binding arrangements. Aurora Pax had let out a sigh in relief, he'd pretended to be offended, and they started the cycle without any more tension between them.

They never made a more formal arrangement- Dion fell into a new femme's berth every other orn, it seemed- but after a particularly flat conquest (and she always, requested or not, was given all of the details), he'd fall back into hers and complain, between moans, how she'd ruined him for every other femme out there.

She'd laugh and bring up Moonrock with those luscious plates, or Skysoar with those beautiful wings, or Rainmaker with that deliciously sensitive-

He'd always cut her off there with a clever touch and as seriously as he could with a smirk on his face, ask her to stop mentioning former berth-mates while interfacing with him.

The last time they interfaced was the night before she met Ariel. Ariel, with her pink plates and bright optics and smooth cranium, who was every inch the proper femme Aurora Pax had never been.

Ariel who'd wandered into the dockyard, completely lost, and offered up a shocked apology when it happened that the Cybertronian she'd addressed as "Excuse me, mech, but could you..." turned around and proved to be an unorthodox femme instead.

Much to Dion's disgust, Aurora Pax was charmed from that moment.

Ariel took some time more- vorns of repeated outings and friendly dinners (that Aurora Pax told herself counted as dates, despite the fact that they weren't)- before she let herself consider being involved with the other femme. Even then, it was a hesitant, half-ashamed involvement; she'd look around before touching Aurora in public and never would if she actually recognised anyone.

Eventually, Aurora Pax ended the relationship herself, despite how much it hurt her. Ariel's reaction- part sorrow, part understanding, part relief- struck deeper than the initial pain because it confirmed that the other femme had cared for her- only she cared for the opinion of other Cybertronians more.

Her last serious partner, though- he was everything Ariel wasn't. He was from the rough side of the planet, cared nothing for what others thought of him, was controlling in the berth and faintly demanded her attention when he decided he wanted it.

Megatron wasn't anything Aurora Pax had seen before. And she loved him for it, right up until she couldn't afford to.

They'd met on one of the trio's bar-crawling cycles; the trio, because twenty or so vorns after she and Ariel had ended, Dion hesitantly approached her and asked if she would mind him becoming involved with her. Aurora Pax had flinched, locked away the immediate no that crossed her CPU and smiled sadly.

"Of course not," she'd said softly. "If it would make you and her happy, I'd want you to."

It was the first time she'd lied to either of them.

It hurt a little less each time she saw them together, but this cycle was still early on in their relationship, and Aurora Pax felt like the awkward, clingy extra everyone was too polite to send away. She'd ditched them after the third place and ended up in a dive deep in the slums, where Cybertronians walked around armed to the denta and not afraid to show it.

She was the only femme drinking alone, but Aurora Pax was used to standing out and it didn't bother her so much. She'd had three cubes before someone else decided to make an issue of it.

The mech was large, solid but lightly armoured. Then she noticed the armour in question had edges like a surgical scalpel, and reassessed him. It was a specific mod; he had some fighting experience, clearly.

"Dunno why you thought you were welcome here, you freakish glitch, but I say your invitation's officially worn out."

Already in a bad mood, she resented paying him any real attention. Aurora Pax just scoffed and ignored him, signalling the bartender for another cube. When he consented to serve her, she smirked and turned back to the mouthy fragger. "Seems he disagrees," she stated blandly, and took a long drink.

The mech bristled at her. "Don't think I won't hit you 'cause you're," his optics raked her up and down, "barely a femme. Down here's a whole new class of mech, glitch. And we say, get the frag outta here now, before we make you."

She didn't know why it got to her; Dion had tossed worse insults her way during their time together. This barely scratched the surface of some of the slag she'd heard in her life.

But she slammed the cube back on the counter, stood up and went chest to chest with him. He was the same height as her, which gave her a vicious pleasure. "I'm not going to try and understand why you have an issue with me, but let me warn you: I've had a bad cycle so far. Do you really want to do this?"

What was she doing, she'd never thrown a punch in her life, he was going to offline her-

He glared at her and said cruelly, "I'd never do something lookin' like you."

And that was how Aurora Pax had her first fight started for her.

She swung wildly at him, aiming for the faceplate, but he simply caught her fist and twisted it sharply, spinning her around and forcing it up her back. "And the view's no better from behind," he hissed into her audio, gloating.

She threw back her cranium, feeling it crunch against his. He cursed and let go of her wrist. The attack disorientated her, though, so she fell forwards, just catching the floor on her arms rather than on her face.

His gyros stabilised before hers did, and he kicked her in the midsection before she could do anything but gasp. She was thrown onto her back, still passing air heavily through her intakes, but managed a kick that took his legs out from under him. She got to her peds before he could and pressed one into his chest plate, mindful of the sharp edges. It was just above his spark.

Bad mood or not, she wasn't going to offline the mech. He didn't know that, however, and she was in a bad mood enough to threaten him.

"I'm going to let you up in a moment," she said, "and if you try to start something, I will pin you again and I will crush your fragging spark." She glared with all the force her bad mood lent her. "Understand?"

The mech nodded reluctantly, hatred in his optics. Slowly, she lifted her ped and stepped away. Slowly, he stood up and clenched his fists. For a moment, Aurora Pax thought he'd actually try something, and what the frag was she going to do then, but he turned and stiffly walked out of the establishment.

She sat back at the counter, and then the shakes started. Primus, she'd just had her first fight, what the frag had she been thinking, he had clearly done that sort of thing before, how the frag had she pulled that off, what if someone else tried something now-

She jumped when another cube was set in front of her. Red optics appraised her expression, and she had no idea what they saw but the mech they belonged to sat next to her and gestured to the cube he'd brought over.

"Take it," he said, with a vocaliser sounding like it was full of gravel. "That was impressive, seeing someone clearly untrained taking out a mech like that."

She took the cube and drank, hoping it would steady her. "It's not something I plan to make a habit of," she replied when she thought her voice wouldn't tremble.

He smirked at her. "Yes, femmes are normally so soft-sparked, they can't bring themselves to enjoy a confrontation, can they?"

And while she was trying to stop herself from starting another fight (this mech looked like he'd put her on the floor, and probably in pieces), he added casually, "but I'd say you aren't any kind of normal femme, are you?"

Shocked blue optics flew up to meet his. His expression was daring her to prove him right. In lieu of answering, she finished the cube he'd bought her and set it on the counter between them. Instead of being annoyed at her stalling, he seemed pleased by her actions.

"I've never met a femme who drinks so much like a mech. Their systems aren't wired to stand the same tolerances, normally."

Ignoring him, she signalled the bartender for another cube. He glanced at her companion warily (compounding her own wary reactions to the mech), but obligingly passed over another of what she was drinking.

"Nor one who'd dare to drink alone in this part of Central City. Rough types down here, not many who'd be able to protect themselves." She saw him glance at her sidelong. "Frag, if that mech had been any less intoxicated you'd've had your aft handed to you."

"What do you want?" Aurora Pax snapped, turning to face him fully. "If that mech had been less intoxicated, he probably wouldn't have tried to start anything."

He snorted at her naiveté. "You're way out of your comfort zone, femme. Yet for some reason, you persist. It intrigues me." He, like the other mech, gave her a thorough once-over. This time, it didn't feel like an insult; more an assessment.

She returned the look, starting with the helmet-like cover on his cranium, down across the shoulders even broader than hers, the solid midsection and armoured limbs. She noticed the attachment catches on his arm, though whatever resided there was currently missing. "You military?" she asked, for lack of a better question.

"Does that scare you?"

She studied his expression. There was no shame there, no embarrassment like he was trying to hide what he was. He was completely comfortable in his frame.

More than anything else about him (features she'd catalogued and refused to linger on) she found that... alluring.

"No," she answered, voice lower than before. "No, you don't scare me."

He gave her another smirk. "I should," he said, before getting to his feet. "But your ignorance is almost charming."

"Where are you going?" The words slipped out before she could stop herself.

He looked down at her, interest in his optics. "Somewhere the high-grade is illegally brewed and illegally strong," he replied, gravel-voice lower than hers. "Want to join me?"

This time, Aurora Pax rose to the dare. She tossed back the rest of her cube and placed enough chips on the counter to cover her drinks. "Let's go," she said, standing up. The top of her cranium just reached his shoulders; he was among the tallest mechs she'd ever met.

His smirk became slightly wicked, and she entertained the notion that maybe he was right, and she should be afraid.

Then he said, "Follow me," and made his way to the exit.

She should be afraid- Dion was probably going rusty by now wondering what had happened to her- but she wasn't.

She followed him out of the door.

She onlined the next cycle with a processor that felt burnt out and a frame covered in scratch marks, some worryingly deep but most trifling. A few looked like the aftermath of a fight, while others... she turned to the mech whose berth she was lying in, observing him without the clouding influence of high-grade.

Heavily armoured from cranium to peds, mostly matt grey plating and optics she knew burned brilliantly red to match his midsection. Obviously strong, obviously bulky; for the first time in her life, she felt delicate lying next to him. It didn't help that she remembered how easy it had been for him to hold her down last night (how she'd arched into the contact and loved every moment of it).

With a shiver, she sat up and looked curiously around the room. It was mostly bare: energon dispenser in one corner, a small table with a couple of datapads in another. A window set high in the wall let in the light that must have onlined her, a door that presumably led to the 'fresher facilities opposite the berth. And next to the door-

Definitely military. Propped up next to the door was what she assumed to be the attachment to his right arm. She immediately understood why he didn't walk around with it all of the time.

Nearly as long as her arm, wide as her palm, some sort of cannon rested against the wall. It was matt black, eerily rejecting the light that tried to hit it.

Turning back to her berth-mate, she noticed he'd onlined at some point. He glanced at the cannon, then back at her, and asked mockingly, "Do I scare you now?"

The cannon could probably disintegrate her with one blast.

She grinned at him. "No. You should, but my ignorance protects me from the true horror of your form."

His optics were strangely serious, she thought, for the comment. He replied to her, "I need no such protection. I look at you and think you're stunning."

Aurora Pax blinked a few times, completely blindsided. He seemed to gather this from her expression, and explained: "I've never met a femme so different and so comfortable in her own frame. You make no excuses and frag anybody who doesn't like it." There was a shadow of a grin, "not to mention, your legs go on for orns."

That startled a laugh out of her, but he turned serious again. "I've never seen a femme throw herself into a fight like you did last night, nor met one who liked it as rough as you were begging for it in my berth last night."

That... was probably the most backhanded compliment anyone had ever given her. "Met a lot of femmes in your berth, have you?" She asked archly, ignoring the first part of his speech and how uncomfortable it made her. She realised with a shock that they hadn't actually introduced themselves the night before.

He smirked, dark and daring. "Never one like you." It was as though he could read her expression, because he added, "I am Megatron, of Kaon."

He seemed to be judging something in her reaction. Like so much else with this mech, this Megatron, she had no idea what he was looking for. "Aurora Pax, Central," she said, drily adding, "I suppose a handshake is redundant now?"

His frame relaxed at her reply. She didn't know what he had found, but seemed to please him without even trying. It was a pleasant thought, that there might be something in them that matched, something that made this worth prolonging. They were essentially attracted to each other for the same reasons, after all.

"I," Megatron declared, rolling and reaching out to pin her down, "am going to have a lot of fun with you, Aurora Pax."

She craned her neck up to reach his audio. "Bring it, Megatron," she whispered. "Let's see what I can take."

She relaxed into his hold and met his optics squarely. What she saw made her shiver again.

Definitely worth prolonging.