Merry (early) Christmas ya filthy animals!
... and a happy New Year.
(Home Alone Reference to ask those who don't know lol)
After the medic, Ratchet, had foolishly denied him Orion, the gladiator left in a storm. He had reluctantly obeyed the medic's order to leave, realizing that if he didn't, the mech would probably never allow him to see the archivist at all.
So, he listened and left, deciding that until Orion awoke, he would punish the mech responsible for his brother's predicament. If Soundwave had found him, that was.
Megatronus walked past Cadmus and Vektor, by an alley that had the Decepticon's slogan, 'you are being deceived.' This area, allegedly, had been where Orion had been hurt by one of his own. His optics narrowed as spotted a blue patch of dried energon on the floor of the alley.
He knelt by the dried energon, seeing that it was fresh. His engine growled angrily as he realized this is the exact spot that his little librarian had been hurt. At that klik, the Champion received a ping from Soundwave, who alerted him to a new development for the mech who had beat up Orion.
The gladiator quickly walked out of the alley and into the middle of the street, not caring about the Cybertronians in their alt-modes swerving around him. The sound of transforming cut hustle of the morning crowd as he launched himself into the air, flying above the golden-hued alloys of the skyscrapers that touched the heavens.
The sky was brilliant, bright blue with the faintest pink tinting the vast space above him. Iacon started to fade away in the distance as roar of his engines filled his audial receptors. The gladiator felt free in a way no other form could provide.
The wind rushed over his frame, whistling against his wings and cooling his internal systems. He was free—as could be out of space—from the cruel clutches of gravity, free from the laws that were below, from those pitifully bound to the ground. He ascended upwards, increasing the power to his thrusters until he was high enough and leveled out.
The metallic landscape of Cybertron flew by. Megatronus, even upset, couldn't deny the beauty of their planet. One of the largest energon rivers flowed throughout all of their planet, its tendrils touching every city, supplying them with energon to last for vorns.
Native creatures and beasts of their planet roamed below, free of the caste system that enslaved their race. They hunted and survived in the wild—he mused what it would be like to be free—truly free—just even for a solar cycle.
He pushed himself faster, watching as a city blurred past him as he adjusted his trajectory towards home. Home. He scoffed at the thought. Kaon was no home—it was a place where the weak died and the strong survived. It was the representation of his power, of the movement that he and Orion led.
Orion. His spark twisted angrily at the thought of his brother's name. The mech who had attacked Orion was one of his followers. The knowledge ate at him. He had taken care to weed out those who were reckless, who couldn't follow orders. Yet, one had slipped through—and Orion had paid the price.
Megatronus looked up at where the stars were, knowing that he couldn't see them when the sun was out. It was like his and Orion's vision for a better Cybertron, he couldn't see it right now, but he knew it was there—it was going to happen. He banked sharply, watching as Kaon came into view.
The smog and industrial spires of Kaon rose to meet him as he descended rapidly, in a corkscrew maneuver, the ground rushing up to meet him. He leveled out, redirecting energon away from his thrusters and slowing down.
He transformed mid-air, his frame twisting and shift, plating clicking and locking back into place as his pedes slammed into the ground with a resounding clang. Dust kicked up around him as he straightened, optics blazing as he took in the familiar sight of the arena's entrance.
It was still early, and no matches were scheduled for this time, since there was no loud crowd from behind the walls. The guards stationed at the gaping maw of the arena, stiffened and shuffled aside, recognizing him instantly. He didn't bother to acknowledge them as he navigated the former maintenance halls.
These dark corridors had once been a place of toil for those who served the gladiators, but now they were his domain. He knew them well, each twist and turn leading him closer to his destination: Soundwave.
Eventually, the gladiator found the mech in the same spot he was when he left. His Minicons—minus Laserbeak who was spying on Starscream—were on a table in the room, lying on top of each other deep in recharge.
Megatronus didn't bother with formalities. "Have you found him?" he demanded in a low growl.
Soundwave didn't turn immediately, visor fixed on the screen before he rose, turning to look at him. "Affirmative," he said.
"Where is he?"
"Secured in arena," the spymaster replied, his visor flickering to life with the image of a room where the mech was sprawled out on the floor, struggling against the stasis cuffs clamped on his wrists.
Megatronus's optics narrowed, piecing together what must've happened. After the spymaster had identified and located the insect, Soundwave most likely sent out a few gladiators to capture the mech that had hurt Orion and brought him here. All while he was away. Reliable and efficient. "Good," he rumbled. "Very good."
The gladiator walked out of the room, Soundwave trailing behind him, walking through the maze of the arena until he finally came to the room where the mech that had dared harm his Orion, resided. A dull red frame greeted him, marred and scratched, with deep grooves and dried energon on his frame—perhaps from the gladiators' rough handling. Or something else.
Megatronus stood before him, a deep scowl forming on his faceplate as he resisted the urge to simply terminate the pest right here and now. "Do you know why you're here?" he asked, in a dangerous growl. Noting the pink-hue in the mech's optics and the unfocused look, it confirmed what he suspected when he walked into the room. Signs of being overcharged.
That only deepened his anger. To harm his Orion, and to do so in such a careless, intoxicated state, was a double insult.
The mech didn't answer immediately, optics darting between the two mechs. "N-no," he stammered finally.
Megatronus's optics flared, and he took a step closer, his field crashing over the restrained mech who flinched. "You harmed Orion—the archivist—after I explicitly ordered you not to," he snarled, looking a terrifying image.
The mech began to stammer, begging. "I-I didn't mean to! It was... it was a mistake, I swear!" he pleaded.
Megatronus didn't respond. His servo shot forward, clamping onto the mech's arm in a vice-grip. He yelped in protest, struggling weakly against his hold, but it was futile. Megatronus dragged him from the room, his heel struts scraping against the floor as he writhed and pleaded.
His voice rose in panic as he realized where he was taking him—the arena stadium. "Please! I didn't know! I won't do it again!"
Lies.
Megatronus ignored his cries, optics fixed straight ahead as they entered where they needed to be. Just a few gladiators sparred in the section with the stands, fighting ferociously as if there were a crowd spurring them on. It was early; Vexon gave his gladiators a chance to spar before the matches of the solar cycle, and the rest of the awakening arena was elsewhere. But that suited Megatronus's purpose perfectly.
He strode to the center of the arena, and without a word, threw the mech down onto the ground. The mech scrambled to his knees, optics wide with fear as he looked up at him. The overcharged was pathetic, struggling to do even the simplistic task of standing. How did this insect hurt Orion with half a processor and no frame functions?
Soundwave, as silent as could be, took his place at the edge of the arena. The spymaster connected to the arena's network, activating its projection systems. The Champion's imposing frame was instantly broadcast onto every screen within the entire building, from the bar to the underground training areas to the barracks—anywhere that had a screen.
Immediately, gladiators in the large space with Megatronus stopped mid-spar, their optics drawn to the screens. Some, who were in the stands, began to gather at the edges of the arena, curious as to what was happening.
Megatronus raised his arm, silencing the murmurs with a single motion. His commanding voice rang out, amplified by the arena's sound system.
"This," he snarled, pointing to the cowering mech before him, "is what happens when you touch what is mine. This is what happens when you touch Orion."
His optics swept over the gathering crowd. "I will tolerate no disobedience. No recklessness. And no harm to what belongs to me."
The mech, who managed to get to shaky pedes, tried to run away, but the gladiator simply raised his fusion cannon and shot him in the back, sending him faceplate first into the metal ground. The mech moaned, rolling onto his back and weakly lifting his helm to see a seething Megatronus approaching him.
The gladiator's servo shot down, grabbing the mech by his helm, ignoring as he clawed to try to get the servo off, and tossed Orion's oppressor a few pedes in front of him, sending the mech tumbling and grunting.
Eventually, when he came to a stop, the mech struggled to his pedes, getting into a sloppy defensive position. He scoffed at the challenge and rushed to meet him helm on, brutally punching the mech in the faceplate, sending him sprawling again.
The insect groaned, attempting to get up. Before he could, the Champion was on top him, kicking the mech in the side so hard that it left a dent, sending him tumbling again. The mech that hurt Orion managed to get up again, spitting out energon and clutching his side.
He heard a growl from him before he weakly charged at him. Megatronus easily evaded the mech's attacks, though one managed to catch him off guard. As he dodged one punch, the mech feigned and hit a particularly sensitive seam in his armor, eliciting a roar of pain.
An uppercut to his jaw sent Orion's oppressor flying backwards into the arena wall, leaving a spider web of cracks as he peeled off from the point of impact, groaning. The Champion was back on him, grabbing his arm with a snarl and twisting it until the plating buckled and the cables connecting the arm to his frame ripped apart, provoking a satisfying scream from the bot beneath him.
Now armed, the gladiator proceeded to beat the living spark out of the mech until sparks flew from the tears in his plating, and his energon followed freely, pooling onto the shiny floor beneath him where he laid.
"Please... please... Have mercy!"
"Like you had mercy with Orion?" he snarled, hitting them again.
"I-I'm sorry!"
Megatronus paused, considering the mech below him. "No, you're not."
Orion's oppressor attempted to fight back one last time, struggling to his pedes and striking his chassis. It was like a sparkling hitting a fortress. Megatronus didn't even flinch. He backhanded them and sent them sprawling to the ground.
Tossing the mech's arm to the side, watching as the bot got to his knees, staring up at him with wide, terrified optics. "Please..."
No mercy.
Megatronus grabbed him by the throat, lifting them off the ground as if he weighed nothing. His servos clawed weakly at his arms, but it was no use. "You were warned," he growled, "yet you failed to listen. This is an example of what happens to those who don't listen."
His grip tightened on the mech's throat cables, leaving deep grooves as energon sprung from the newly opened plating. With his free servo, the Champion dug his claws into Orion's oppressor's chassis and twisted slowly, drawing out the pain until he crushed his spark.
The mech's frame went limp, optics dimming as the last remnants of his life flickered out punctuated with a low hum. He straightened and turned to the crowd. "Let this serve as a reminder," he said, his voice echoing across the arena. "Defiance has consequences. Betrayal has consequences. Harm to what is mine has consequences."
The gathered gladiators watched in silence, taking in the sight before them. None dared to speak. None dared to move. Without another word, Megatronus turned and walked away, Soundwave following silently.
The message was clear. And no one would forget it.
Turning to the spymaster, the Champion growled, "We have another extermination to perform."
There was a cycle and a half until the rally—and Megatronus prayed that Orion would be better—and there was still one last obstacle in the way of their rally, one final piece that need to be removed from the board.
The arena boss.
A disgusting mech, always too concerned with profits, with manipulating outcomes for the entertainment of the crowd. He had been an annoyance for some time now, making pretty demands, subtly trying to exert control over the matches, pushing Megatronus to throw a fight here and there to "keep things interesting," as the boss had put it.
But the Champion knew better. The criminal wanted profits, wanted to increase his own accounts while using the gladiators like pawns in his little games.
Just the thought of him made Megatronus's energon boil. He had fantasized killing the arena boss a hundred times over by now, each scenario more satisfying than the last. But until now, he had held back. The criminal lord had been useful, a means to an end, a figure who could grant him access to things he could never get his servos on.
Megatronus had needed him, at least for a while. Until this last shipment of illegal weapons and supplies.
But now? Now the boss was no longer useful. He was a threat. The rally they had been planning for so long would draw too much attention, and the boss—greedy and cowardly—would surely try to put a stop to it. He had too much at stake, too much to lose if things spiraled out of his control.
The arena boss had to be removed. Permanently.
Megatronus continued down the hall in a steady pace, unhurried. Soundwave followed silently, understanding what was about to transpire. There was no need for words between them now, not for this. They approached the elevator at the far end of the corridor, and he looked to the spymaster.
"It's time to take care of business."
Soundwave nodded. The spymaster knew exactly what Megatronus meant. He had been keeping an optic on the arena boss for some time now, monitoring his movements, gathering data on his habits, his weaknesses. The time had come to put that information to use.
Megatronus reached the elevator and pressed the control panel, watching as the doors slid open with a soft hiss. He stepped inside, Soundwave close behind, and the two of them stood in silence as the elevator began its ascent.
The gladiator was already envisioning how this would play out. The boss wouldn't see it coming. He would be caught off guard, overconfident as always, thinking he still had control over the gladiator he believed was his greatest asset.
But the Champion had never belonged to anyone, least of all some weak-willed profiteer.
The elevator came to a halt with a soft chime, and the doors slid open, revealing another dark corridor stretching ahead of them. Megatronus stepped out, walking down the hall. The boss had been living on borrowed time. And now, the gladiator was ready to collect.
Reaching the criminal lord's officer, there were two guards were stationed at the entrance, stiffly standing, holding stun batons. The larger one on the left glanced up as the Champion approached, his optics narrowing.
"The boss ain't seeing anyone," he said gruffly.
Megatronus mentally rolled his optics, suppressing a vent. These guards were little more than cannon fodder, mere tools for the arena boss to shield himself with. He bared his fangs in a mockery of a smile. "I have business with him. It's in his best interest to make time for me."
The second guard, standing slightly smaller, shook his helm. "He's in a bad mood today. You don't wanna push him."
Megatronus raised an optic ridge. "Bad mood, you say? I'd hate to ruin his solar cycle further... but I'm afraid this is non-negotiable. Either he sees me, or I make it clear to him that his guards decided to keep me from him."
The first guard glanced at his comrade uneasily. He recognized the look in the gladiator's optics. The reputation of the Champion was well known across Kaon. Even so, he stood firm. "Boss don't like being disturbed without a good reason."
"Oh, I promise you, this is a very good reason. And if I have to explain why you delayed me, let's just say the boss's bad mood will be the least of your concerns."
The second guard shifted on his pedes, clearly uncomfortable now. His optics darted to Soundwave, who stood silently behind Megatronus, watching blankly from behind a faceless mask that unnerved even the bravest.
"I dunno..." the second guard muttered, "The boss ain't exactly the forgiving type."
Megatronus leaned in slightly. "Neither am I."
The first guard swallowed, glancing between Megatronus and his companion. He knew what the gladiator was capable of—everyone in the arena did. Obviously, the last thing he wanted was to be caught between a gladiator and the boss. There was a long pause as the guard weighed his options.
Finally, he let out air through his vents. "Alright, alright. But if this blows up, it's on you."
Megatronus' smile widened, though it didn't reach his optics. "It won't. I'll make sure of that."
The second guard moved to the control panel, punching in a few commands to unlock the door. With a soft hiss, the heavy metal doors slid open, revealing the lavish interior of the boss. The guards stepped aside, warily eyeing the two mechs as they passed.
Megatronus didn't spare them another glance. He had won this round without shedding a drop of energon—an unusual feat, but a necessary one. The area boss was a slippery mech, and any sign of disturbance would tip him off. The gladiator needed the element of surprise, and needed the boss to think this was just another meeting.
Only then could he strike.
The Champion stepped into the room, surveying his surroundings. The office was spacious, luxurious compared to what the gladiators who lived here had. While it was nothing compared to the high castes, it was admittedly... impressive for a room in the rundown, smoggy city of Kaon.
Across the room, behind a wide desk cluttered with datapads and useless trinkets, sat the arena boss—Vexon. The criminal lord was a boxy, but bulky mech with green paint shined to perfection and gold accents that flashed when caught in the light.
Despite his pleasant countenance, the mech was just evil. He thrived in the underworld, scheming and manipulating from the shadows. He was a gangster first and foremost, running the gladiatorial pits with a firm grip and profiting handsomely from it. But Megatronus knew better than anyone that the boss was always angling for more power, more money, more control.
At the klik, Vexon had one servo pressed down on a comms button, speaking in a raspy voice as he growled orders into the speaker. "Yeah, I told you, I need that shipment by the end of the cycle. I don't care what you have to do, just make it happen. The council doesn't care about your excuses, and neither do I."
Vexon seemed to notice Megatronus and scowled. Vexon was usually more pleasant than this or at least acted as such. "Hold on. I've got company."
The arena overlord gestured lazily for the gladiator to wait with an arrogant wave of his servo. As if he was some subordinate he could order around! Megatronus found it infuriating; he wasn't in the mood to wait for anything.
He strode forward, ignoring the boss's signal entirely. "We need to talk, Vexon."
The arena boss raised an optical ridge. He wasn't used to being interrupted, especially by the gladiators he controlled. His servo slammed the comms button, cutting off the conversation abruptly. "This better be good, D-er, Megatronus. I'm busy."
The Champion flashed a tight, humorless smile. "Oh, I think you'll find it... interesting. I have a proposition for you."
Vexon's scowl remained in place, though he did seem curious. "A proposition, eh?" He leaned back in his chair, folding his thick arms over his chassis. "Let's hear it, then. What kind of deal are you looking to make? You finally thinking about working with me?"
Megatronus let his smile widen just a fraction. "I've been thinking. You wanted me to throw a few matches to change things up for the crowds, right?"
The change in Vexon's demeanor was immediate. His scowl vanished, replaced by a sharp grin. There was a glint in his optics, like a mech who could already see the credits lining his subspace. "Well, well, well. I knew you'd come around eventually. Big gladiator like you, smart enough to see where the real power is. The fans would lose their processors if you lost a match. We'd make a fortune."
The Champion tilted his helm slightly, still wearing that thin, dangerous smile. "And I'm sure you'd make sure some of that fortune made its way to me, of course."
Vexon laughed. "Of course! You'd get your cut. You help me out, I help you. That's how this business works, right? You throw a few matches, and we both walk away richer than we've ever been."
Megatronus took a few steps until he was directly in front of the overlord, only separated from his target by a desk. "I was thinking something along those lines. But you see, there's a problem."
The criminal lord's grin faltered slightly. "Problem?"
The gladiator's smile disappeared entirely. "The problem is... I'm done playing by your rules."
The sudden shift in tone was enough to make Vexon straighten up, his optics narrowing suspiciously. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about taking control of this arena. And you, Vexon..." Megatronus' optics flashed dangerously, his voice dropping to a low growl. "You're in the way."
The mech's smirk returned. He leaned back in his chair, one servo moving slowly toward the drawer of his desk. "Is that so? Well, maybe you're forgetting who's really in charge here. This arena is mine, and if you think—"
He didn't get to finish the sentence. Megatronus moved in a blur, his servo shooting out to grab Vexon by the throat, lifting the heavy mech out of his chair like he weighed nothing. The boss's optics widened in shock, servos clawing at Megatronus' grip as he tried to break free.
"You've been sitting here, leeching off the backs of gladiators long enough," Megatronus growled. "But your time's up."
Vexon, who had managed to grab the blaster in his desk drawer, aimed it at his helm and fired. The shot grazed his helm, leaving a burning sting from the superheated energon. He hissed, tightening his grip on the mech's throat.
"You... son of a glitch..." Vexon wheezed, still struggling.
The gladiator didn't give him another chance to speak. He tightened his grip further and crushed his neck. The boss's optics dimmed, his blaster falling from his grip. Megatronus held him there for a klik longer before finally releasing him, letting the lifeless frame crumple to the floor.
Megatronus raised a servo to where the former arena boss had grazed his helm. The sound of the door opening snapped his attention to the opening. The guards. The shot must've alerted them.
They entered the office, only for Soundwave's tendrils to latch onto their chassis, sending currents of electricity through their frames until their optics dimmed and systems offlined with a low hum. Their frames fell to the ground with a clang, smoking and lifeless.
The spymaster moved the console, rerouting security protocols and erasing any evidence of the confrontation. Efficient, as always.
Megatronus glanced down at Vexon's greying frame. For a brief klik, he considered making a spectacle of the arena boss's death. Hanging the corpse for all to see, a clear warning to anyone who thought they could stand in his way. But he quickly dismissed the idea. If rumors of Vexon's death got out, he would have bigger issues.
Turning away from the frame, the gladiator faced Soundwave, who had finished wiping the security footage clean. "You'll run the arena now," Megatronus said. "Take the boss's place."
Soundwave paused briefly and then nodded. Vexon had connections—powerful connections in the criminal underworld. If they were going to maintain control without inviting retaliation, someone would need to fill the boss's role, at least temporarily.
And Soundwave was perfect for that.
"Maintain the status quo," Megatronus continued. "We don't need unwanted attention right now. Keep the arena running as it always has, just under new management. You'll handle it."
The spymaster nodded and started to sift through the former overlord's encrypted files, accessing his personal contacts and everything that tied him to the underground syndicate. If anyone asked, Vexon was still in charge. Soundwave could mimic him, keep the façade intact for as long as necessary by way of using his well-known paranoia, and in the meantime, their plans could proceed without interference from the boss's former associates.
The Champion clasped his servos behind his back, staring out at the expanse of Kaon below from Vexon's former office window. The city was the place where he had made a name for himself, where he had risen from nothing to become a gladiator feared by all.
But now, it wasn't enough to be feared. He needed control.
His optics narrowed as he watched the distant figures below, the mechs and femmes going about their lives. The gladiator turned his attention back to the frame on the floor. Vexon had been a parasite, feeding off the labor and suffering of those who fought in his arena. His death was no great loss. But what mattered now was what came next.
The pieces were falling into place. The rally would happen, the message would spread, and Cybertron would finally hear their voice. But this was only the beginning. There would be no turning back after this.
They had taken control of the arena. Now, they would take control of Kaon.
And soon, all of Cybertron would follow.
Wow... this is the longest chapter yet! I originally planned for Megatronus to exterminate the arena boss sooner, quite a few chapters ago actually, but I changed my mind and decided to put 'Orion's oppressor' and 'the arena boss' together for exterminations.
Much like Chapter 4, I'm not fully satisfied with this chapter. I feel like I could do it better, but I had already rewritten it twice. And I didn't want to rewrite it again (especially with a pounding headache). And it seems some of Megatronus'... tendencies are coming to the surface.
Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think :)