Hex-16, I forgot that he wrote poetry too until I stumbled across "Afterlight," a piece of his work. I believe it is the only written piece, though correct me if I am wrong.
Megatronus looked up at Orion, who was deep in thought, staring at the holographic projection of Kaon. The map projected a detailed map—painstakingly accurate from Soundwave's surveillance—of Kaon's main arena and its surrounding districts, each sector rendered in bright lines and marked with alleyways, access routes, and main streets leading into the center of the city.
Specifically, the arena where the rally would take place. It was the heart of the city, a place where gladiators like him had fought, bled, and built a reputation for strength. Now, it would be the site of their uprising—the spark that would ignite the entire planet.
Megatronus folded his arms over his chassis, glancing over at Soundwave, standing silently next to him. The gladiator tapped on particular section of the map, zooming in on one of the arena's main entrances. "This is our first priority," he said. "We know the enforcers will be on us the klik the rally starts. They'll swarm from the north and try to push through this corridor here. We need to position our gladiators in this street, create a blockade that'll buy us at least fifteen kliks."
Orion leaned forward, studying the map. "But if we barricade this route alone, it won't hold them for long. They'll redirect to the side streets here and here." He gestured to two narrow alleyways feeding into the arena's plaza. "If they can't take the main street, they'll funnel through these alleys. We need crowd control at every possible access point to keep them from overwhelming us too quickly."
Megatronus nodded, impressed. The archivist's sense of strategy had sharpened immensely over the past stellar cycle. He'd gone from cautiously watching and learning to actively leading these sessions. "We'll position some of the more experienced gladiators at each alley," Megatronus said, marking the locations on the map. "They'll hold the lines, but they'll need to avoid any confrontations with the enforcers that could… escalate."
The archivist frowned. "We need them contained but unharmed, Megatronus. The Functionists will jump on any excuse to label us as terrorists."
The Champion turned to look at his librarian, raising an optic ridge. "Oh? Not because it's wrong?" he teased.
Orion paused for a long klik, realizing that his friend was teasing him. "It is wrong," he stressed, though a smile tugged at his derma. "We're fighting to change Cybertron, not start a war."
His optics flashed determinedly, filled with a fiery passion that could never be snuffed. Megatronus would not allow it to be snuffed. The gladiator could see that the passion of his words was just at the tip of his glossa, ready to come out. He loved the way that his brother could get so worked-up and how he would occasionally fire shots of his own, if brought out.
But he also enjoyed the times when they would find solace in each other's arms, Megatronus using his friend's helm as a comfortable helmrest, his friend against his frame, staring up at the night sky, dreaming of a better Cybertron.
"There will be no unnecessary violence," Megatronus assured, placing a servo on his friend's shoulder. "You have my word."
Orion ex-vented, knowing that was the best promise he was going to get from him. "Thank you."
The gladiator marked the points on the map where each gladiator squad would be positioned, ensuring every entrance was covered.
"The south and the west entrances will need additional coverage," Orion noted, gesturing to the map. "They could possibly surround us if they gain access to the maintenance tunnels, which is paramount to defend."
Megatronus nodded, keying in a command to highlight the entrances to mark them as critical. "Soundwave," the gladiator said, not looking away from the map, "you'll keep an optic on surveillance to watch the enforcers movements."
Soundwave nodded.
"This rally will be the beginning," the Champion rumbled. "And they won't be able to ignore us."
Soundwave watched as Megatronus and Orion Pax leave the room, heading to their sparring session. Orion Pax was unlike any mech that the spymaster had ever encountered. He was clever, resourceful, and driven by a deep belief in justice. But he was also, in Soundwave's calculated estimation, naïve.
Megatronus trusted Orion Pax with his life, and Soundwave feared that such trust would leave him vulnerable. Yet, for now, the archivist had proven useful. Having access to the Grid was vital for their cause, and it was something that would spread their ideology to all of Cybertron.
The door hissed close behind to the mechs, and the spymaster felt the urge to follow. The archivist's ideals might align with their cause, but his distrust of him had not lessened. His loyalty lay with Megatronus, and Megatronus alone. His purpose was to ensure the safety and success of their movement, even if that meant watching his commander's closest allies.
"Ravage: deploy," he commanded. The armor on his back shifted, metal and components rearranging until they formed into Ravage—a four-legged beastformer, with a long, whip-like tail and a retractable visor over his faceplate, covering glaring red optics. "Mission: follow Megatronus."
Ravage hissed, darting out of the door, pedes barely able to be heard against the metal floor. Soundwave would be able to see what his Minicon saw—he was one of Soundwave's four deployers. Keeping his optic on Megatronus was in a way, was a form of protection from him.
To say that he wasn't concerned about Megatronus' well-being would be a lie. The spymaster knew about the Amica Endura bond the pair shared. While it was nothing like the unity of a Conjunx Endurae, the Amica Endura bond connected their sparks loosely, not as one, but with a thread that if severed, could prove dangerous to the mental health of a Cybertronian.
If this bond were ever severed—if one of them were lost—it could affect his commander deeply. For Megatronus, this risk was especially high. He feared what might happen to Megatronus should this bond ever be severed, intentionally or not. Losing a piece of himself, even such a small once, could leave lasting damage on his commander's spark.
His thoughts turned back to the archivist. Orion Pax was intelligent, yes. He was passionate and had the spark of a leader, but he was also inexperienced. The archivist's idealism of a united Cybertron was noble, but it blinded him to the harsh realities that came with a rebellion. These ideals could even start a rift.
His lack of ruthlessness was a liability, and Soundwave had seen Megatronus's tolerance of it. He knew how much his leader valued Orion Pax and how much he let his shields down around him. And it was dangerous.
The spymaster's attention shifted to Megatronus and Orion, sparring in the training room gladiators used to fight in. Though he wasn't physically following them, his awareness stretched out like an unseen web, connecting through Ravage's perspective as the Minicon shadowed the two mechs.
Soundwave blankly watched them for a long klik, before turning to the data package Megatronus had sent him for the bombings, thoughts still on his leader's well-being.
The true risk was not only bond itself, but in the difference between the ideals that Orion Pax and Megatronus held. Megatronus sought revolution, the end of the Council's reign and a rebirth for Cybertron. But Orion, with his hopeful gaze and unfailing optimism, sought to saw the Council with reason and to remake their society from within.
They were on a collision course, whether his leader saw it or not.
Orion Pax had been shielded from the rough life of the low castes. He was a middle caste with a comfortable life and privileges that would forever keep him from understanding what they, the lower castes, had endured.
Once, long ago, Soundwave had lived among the higher rungs of the Cybertronian society as Councilor to Sentinel Prime himself. It was an existence he'd abandoned out of disgust, discarding his status to descend into the pits of Kaon, immersing himself in a world far harsher than the golden towers of Iacon had had ever been.
He had honed himself in those pits. It was there that he had established AVL to fight against the corruption in higher places, using it to help other bots—such as Minicons, who were horribly mistreated. It was how he had found Ravage, Frenzy and Rumble, his other cassettes.
And then he met Megatronus.
They had fought one of the most renown battles in the pits to a stalemate even though it was only to draw first energon. Soundwave had been inspired by the gladiator, after hearing and seeing ideals that could upend Cybertron and in turn, he had pledged loyalty to him.
After that fight, Soundwave had left AVL in the servos of the co-founder, Whiplash as he took his place beside his leader. This was where he could make the most impact for his world.
The spymaster read through the data package, scanning the locations and mentally cataloging the exact details of the bombings. He would help coordinate the Decepticons involved in the operations, to ensure everything would go as planned.
Especially with the kidnapping of Sentinel Prime. Megatronus had talked to him about it the previous solar cycle, stressing that he would be vital to show Cybertron the false Prime that he was. The Prime would, unwilling, help expose the rot in the system.
And the Decepticons would be there to cleanse it.
Orion stood by the railing overlooking the main arena below, watching the gladiators fight below. He winced slightly as one of the bots delivered a crushing blow to another. Watching the brutal displays made his tanks churn—the violence and brutality were all the things he disliked about these displays. But still, he watched.
His own sparring session had ended not too long ago. He could feel it in every one of his pistons, sore from the beating he had received from his friend. "You're getting better," Megatronus said to him almost every single time.
It was meant to be reassuring, but Orion found little comfort in it. He didn't feel better. He felt outmatched. Useless, even. A lone spark, trying to make a difference in a world that felt overwhelmingly large and indifferent to change. But at least Megatronus was with him.
The slow, heavy sound of pedes brought the archivist out of his thoughts. He didn't need to turn to know who it was. Megatronus.
"You're brooding again." His brother's voice cut through the sounds of fighting below.
Orion blinked, then realized Megatronus was teasing him. His optics narrowed slightly, and he let out an indignant huff, keeping his gaze on the arena. "I'm not brooding. I'm thinking."
Megatronus chuckled softly. "Same thing with you."
The librarian shot a glare at his friend, though it lacked heat. "Well, some of us actually think about things, instead of rushing into everything fists first."
The gladiator smirked, stepping closer until he was right behind Orion. His large frame seemed to engulf the smaller mech as he wrapped his thick arms around his waist, pulling him gently against his chassis.
"I think plenty," Megatronus said, his voice softer now, teasing still, but warmer. He lowered his chin onto Orion's helm. "I think about how often you're going to get your aft handed to you until you learn to hit back properly."
Orion vented, leaning into the embrace despite himself, feeling the warmth of his friend's frame seeping into his plating. "You really know how to motivate me, don't you?"
His brother let out another low chuckle. "You've always been stubborn, Orion. That's why you're going to be better than all of them. I believe in you."
He huffed. "You believe in me or you like having someone to throw around in the arena?"
"Maybe both."
The two stood like that for a klik, staring up at the morning sky, brilliantly painted in an array of colors. Orion vented contently, imagining what it would be like if there was no caste system, no Council, no Functionists, no nothing to worry about.
The librarian felt so small sometimes, but not when Megatronus was there. Not when his best friend still saw something in him—something even he couldn't always see. The gladiator was always encouraging him to be better, even when he thought he couldn't. But he still couldn't help but think: was he doing enough?
"You're too hard on yourself," Megatronus said, as if reading his thoughts. "You're not useless. Not to me, not to anyone."
Orion tilted his helm slightly, adjusting his angle to look up at his friend. "It just… feels like too much sometimes. We're just a servoful of bots—I'm just one bot; you're just one bot—against billions of others. How can we change anything when everything's so broken?"
"You're not just one bot," Megatronus said firmly. "You're Orion Pax. You see things in ways others don't. You have a spark that cares more than most, and that's something that I—we can't afford to lose."
Orion wasn't sure how to respond, so he stayed silent.
"Still brooding," his friend teased after a klik of silence.
"I am not brooding," Orion huffed.
"You just overthink, and then you sulk when the answer doesn't come to you immediately," he shot back. "Same thing."
"Overthink?" He frowned. "I just want to be sure we're doing the right thing."
"We are," the gladiator affirmed, his tone leaving no room for argument.
The archivist vented deeply, staring up at the stars that faded away one by one as the sky brightened. He jerked away in surprise when he felt something tug his audial receptors. He whirled around, turning to see his friend smirking, servos on his hipplates. He flattened them against his helm, rubbing the spot where his friend had pulled at his audios.
Orion knew it was a playful gesture. His friend always loved to tease him, always pushing boundaries just enough—not too far—just to get a reaction out of him. And he was good at it. "Stop that," Orion said, though his tone carried no real bite.
Megatronus chuckled, leaning against the railing, looking relaxed, though Orion knew better. His gaze shifted from him to the arena below, where the gladiators were starting to scatter to start the matches for the solar cycle.
"Soon," his brother said, "they'll chant both our names."
Orion moved to stand next to him, leaning his elbows on the railing as he followed his friend's gaze to the gladiators. The arena represented everything that was on Cybertron—the inequality, division, and suffering that seemed never-ending. He knew his friend had always been drawn to it fights and the sense of power that it gave him—it was a worrying thought.
"I don't care whose name they chant, Megatronus. Yours, mine, it doesn't matter to me. As long as Cybertron is free, as long as we can make this world better for everyone… that's all I want."
Megatronus glanced at him, expression unreadable for a klik, though the soft glow of his blue optics increased in intensity. "As always, you are the selfless one," he finally said. He looked back at the arena. "But they will chant our names, Orion. We will be their saviors. We will change everything."
The smaller mech knew the gladiator meant every word. They would change things. But the how—that was always the question that gnawed at him. He knew that his friend had darker tendencies, sometimes violent, if that wasn't already evident in his fights, and that worried Orion.
Still, he couldn't deny that Megatronus had a vision, one that aligned with his also. He turned his gaze back to the arena, watching the gladiators struggle, fight, and fall.
I want to make this really clear. Megatronus and Orion hugging (and the type of hug) does not mean they are romantically involved. They never will be. I don't want y'all to take their hugs the wrong way, is all.
Megatronus tends to be possessive, thus the occasional "his librarian" or "his archivist" that I managed to sneak in his perspectives. Why do you think he's working so hard to keep his dark secrets away from Orion? He wants the archivist at his side, because he's "his" in his mind.