Megatronus| gladiator of Iacon

In order to watch just one fight between Megatronus and the monsters, the arena was given over for a whole day, so that all the spectators would gather, and the terrible monsters would be hungry and furious enough from the inhumane confinement in their cages. Soundwave and Shockwave watched everything from the spectator seats, they were not involved in the performances, leaving the stands and enemies only for the best fighter.

By the last fight, Megatronus was drained, energon from his wounds pooling on the field. With the last of his strength, he seized the massive tail of his opponent and hurled the beast into the stands where Shockwave and Soundwave were seated. “Can’t leave all the fun to myself! Only—he’s already dead.”

To the booming, hot laughter of Megatronus, the smoke and screams of the spectators who had been caught under the carcass cleared: the creature died, impaled head-on on the sharp pole of Iacon's banner, and its chest smashed against the destroyed fence with the spectator seats. Shockwave and Soundwave easily got out from under the mess and casually took out the other transformers, which looked very poor and frail in comparison, but no one was hurt. Not that anyone was worried about their safety: the crowd roared.

Later, alone with his comrades, Megatronus’ state became clear: his energon loss was critical, that laughter only a mask for pain and exhaustion. With effort he was patched up before heading to the archives of Alpha Trion. Orion Pax, absorbed in work, had not come to watch.

“…,” Orion faltered when the tall warrior appeared at the door, reeking of sulfur, broken metal and blood. Megatronus forced a stern yet peaceful look, servos folded behind his back, and bent to enter. “I have a guest, my friend, shall I introduce you?” The archivist, avoiding mention of his comrade’s wounds, led him inside, past shelves of fresh records.

“Should I give them an autograph, Orion?”

“I will not ask. I trust you’ll know the right approach.”