Chapter Text
Optimus woke to a dark, eerily silent room.
He online his optics. Cycled them a few times. Turned his helm, taking the room in.
It was very familiar. It filled him with a sense of nostalgia, one that made his spark ache , and he brought a servo up to rub at his chassis absently and sat up on the berth he’d been laying in.
It was a bare room. Megatronus, being the darling of the arena, had been allowed a personal room with a private washrack, and his personal belongings - few that they were - were strewn about. Littered on the small side table appeared to be pieces of scrap; a rock that shimmered a little in the light. A tin of polish with a cloth hanging precariously over the edge, looking to fall at any moment. A cracked holographic image that Optimus couldn’t make out even if he tried.
On the far wall was a shelf of datapads in various conditions - from new to battered and barely functional. Optimus recognised a few titles that he could remember giving Megatronus so long ago, and his spark gave a small flip and fluttered with - with something. He pursed his lips. An insecure part of him had always felt that Megatronus had simply disposed of them, even after learning how studious and well read he was. A great deal of Orion had been insecure , and had buckled under the intense attention such a powerful mech had bestowed upon him.
Megatron - Megatronus had kept them all, and the knowledge had a part of him that Optimus had thought long dead reignighting.
Optimus quashed it. He couldn’t deal with it again. Not now. Even if it seemed like his current circumstances would allow it to flourish.
No matter what, Optimus had to stay on guard.
There wasn’t much else in the room. A couple of stools and a low sitting table covered in a few more datapads, some polish and a couple tins of paint, and some brushes. Propped against the wall were a couple swords - one mangled, the blade nicked and the top chipped off. The other stained with old, old energon.
As Orion, Optimus had never been here before. Civilians were not allowed in the Gladiator barracks. That didn’t stop various types of pleasure bots being snuck in, but Orion had been far from a buymech, and Megatronus had never wanted to expose this side of him - the visual proof that Megatronus was an owned mech.
The sound of the door sliding open snapped Optimus out of his thoughts, and it took a good deal of willpower to keep his battle protocols offline at the sight of Megatronus blocking the doorway.
Their optics met, blue on blue. Not blue on red .
Optimus had to keep reminding himself of that. He clenched his fists.
Megatronus held his stare for what felt like a century, before he looked away and jerked his helm, indicating for Optimus to follow him. “You need to refuel, and now’s going to be the only chance until tomorrow. Come if you don’t want to starve.”
His tone was short, impatient. Nothing like how Megatronus’ used to be when speaking to Orion. It held none of the softness or charm - and it was because of that, that Optimus found himself relaxing . At least a little bit. The short, impolite tone was something familiar. Something that he was much more used to.
He didn’t know what he would have done if Megatronus had spoken to him the same way he would have spoken to Orion.
So Optimus followed.
They walked in silence through deserted, dimly lit halls. It was a lot quieter than Optimus would have thought barracks belonging to gladiators would be - but it became quiet obvious after a few minutes of movement that this hall - this level was empty.
It was then Megatronus spoke up. “You’ll be staying with me - at least until you can manage well enough on your own. Usually newbies bunk in groups, but it’ll be easier to keep an eye on you like this.”
Megatronus looked over his shoulder at Optimus, his expression grim, before he shook his helm and continued. “The Overseer has so graciously given you a week to adjust before you’re scheduled to be in any matches. Over the course of that week I’m going to put you through a crash course on how life in the pits works.” He didn’t look at Optimus anymore as he said, “I’m going to do all I can to ensure you survive, Orion. You have my word.”
There was that feeling in Optimus’ spark again. That flip, followed by a flutter.
He was thankful for his battlemask then. And the fact that Megatronus wasn’t looking at him. Who knows what Megatronus would have seen in his expression.
They continued on in silence once more. Down on the second level, they moved down a corridor that provided a view of the outside - well, ‘outside’ being an open space with a high domed ceiling, and down on the ground he could see groups of mech kicking up dust - practicing. An area for training then. That would explain the empty corridors - the other gladiators must be getting their fuel.
Down another level and-
“This is the refectory,” Megatronus rumbled as the door slid open to reveal a large room - a large room, full of mechs emitting a lot of noise .
Optimus was taken off guard, and it took a moment before he realised Megatronus hadn’t stopped - he’d simply marched right in. Optimus remained frozen.
This was the first time in… He didn't know how long since he'd been surrounded by so many Cybertronians. They had been diminished and scattered for so long - for millennia - that seeing so many crowded into one building was… was…
It was almost frightening.
He was bombarded by noise. Yelling, jeering, mechs of all shapes and colours gathered in groups of varying sizes at benches with cubes of energon of various different colours. Optimus squinted. It looked like a good deal of the contents weren’t just energon, but engex - and it became obvious why when he caught sight of what looked like a makeshift bar at the far wall, more mechs flocking it.
Megatronus didn’t move in the direction of the bar. Instead he moved in the opposite direction, beckoning Optimus to follow when he saw Optimus remained frozen in the doorway.
Optimus could feel many gazes on him. It wasn’t very obvious - the majority of the mechs around seemed distracted by their own company or their drinks, but he could feel the numerous optics looking at him. His audials flicked. He could hear words that he couldn’t quite distinguish, but knew were about him.
It made his plating crawl. Paranoia filled him.
He couldn't let it
distract him-
Optimus sucked in a vent. Raised his helm high, kept his optics locked on Megatronus’ broad back, and followed.
Megatronus threw the occasional glare and sneer at a few mechs as they passed. It was obvious by the way he moved and the way they reacted to him that he was high in whatever ranking system Gladiators held. They either jeered good-naturedly back, or returned the glare with equal venom - he was never, ever ignored.
A fragment of a memory came to Optimus. Another talk, in Orion's tiny, barely livable habsuite. Megatronus' bitterness, coating his words with poison as he talked of how strength was nothing if you weren't popular with the crowds. Of how one's abilities meant nothing if the nobility watching didn't have a personal investment in your matches. Of how you had to grit your teeth and bite your glossa if you were asked to entertain after a match-
A loud bark of laughter tore Optimus from the memory. It was with a start that Optimus recognised Grimlock seated at an end table, and his optics widened as he watched the not-yet-dinobot attempt to trip up Megatronus with a raucous laugh.
Megatronus almost stumbled. He barked out a curse and cuffed Grimlock’s helm, but the other mech didn’t seem to take offence - just attempted another kick, to which Megatronus snorted and returned with a rude gesture before continuing on, an almost grin on his face.
Grimlock turned his attention to Optimus as he passed. He couldn’t see the gladiator’s optics behind his visor or make out his expression, but Optimus knew he was being judged. He was given one very obvious once-over before he looked away - a clear dismissal, and Optimus had to keep a sudden, hysterical laugh under control.
He’d always had to fight for Grimlock’s respect. Looks like he’d have to earn it once more.
Megatron seated himself at an empty bench - or rather, it seemed empty at first, until Optimus noted Soundwave sitting there as well, shadowed by a nearby column. There were three cubes already there, the spymaster having gathered them beforehand, and for a moment Optimus felt a thread of trepidation at the thought of joining them.
The enemy .
He let out a heavy vent. They weren’t the enemy. Not now. Not yet .
A thought came to him. A small, barely formed one that crept into his processor and made itself at home.
What if they never have to become the enemy?
And then a more tank churning, insidious one that sank its tendrils in deep and tried to take root.
What if he got rid of them before they had the chance to become the enemy?
He sat down heavily, trying to banish the line of thought before he actually, seriously considered it. It just - it wasn’t the way he worked. It wasn’t the way he would ever work.
Primus, he was a fool.
It took all he had not cradle his helm in his servos. He tried to steady his venting, suddenly feeling like he was going to purge. His tank was empty, so it wasn’t like anything would come up, but -
“Drink.” Megatronus’ voice rang in his audials and Optimus gave a start, optics snapping up to meet his, hunted.
Megatronus’ optics narrowed. He shoved one of the cubes towards him and swiped up one for himself. The third was now mysteriously empty, Soundwave’s claws absently tracing the edge, the spymaster’s helm tilted in Optimus’ direction - watching him.
It did not help the hunted feeling. Not at all.
Optimus curled a servo around the offered cube, trying to keep it steady. The other he placed in his lap, clenched. The noise - which had almost seemed deafening before - certainly felt like it was now . At that moment he wanted nothing more than to leave his future enemies where they sat, go somewhere dark and quiet and just - pretend none of this was happening -
“Orion?”
Panic crept through his processor. It made his body heavy, too hot, too cold - dueling sensations that confused his sensornet. His spark felt too big for it’s casing and -
Silence.
Just sudden, eerie silence.
Optimus looked up.
Megatronus was looking at him, expression grim - concern in his optics, that definitely had to be concern -
But then Megatronus wasn’t looking at him, but instead looking over his shoulder. Soundwave has shifted, sitting up straighter, plating flaring in a sign of aggravation-
“Orion Pax.” A voice said from behind his shoulder, tone silken, almost mocking, and Optimus felt a shudder crawl down his spinal strut. A servo clamped down on his shoulder armour, overly familiar and unwelcome, and Optimus saw red. He clenched his free servo tighter, blade releasing-
Megatronus jumped to his pedes with a snarl, servo slamming down on the table, causing the energon cubes to clatter and the one he had been drinking to topple over and spill. “What the frag do you want, Hammerlock? You very clearly told me I had a week-”
“Calm yourself.” The tone had changed to one of annoyance. The servo on Optimus’ shoulder disappeared, and the relief Optimus felt was immediate. He turned his helm, looking at the offender through narrowed optics. “I merely came to collect my own ration and check up on our new arrival. Is that so wrong?”
The mech was small - at least, smaller than Optimus, which wasn’t hard considering the bulk the Matrix had previously rebuilt him with. The mech - Hammerlock - came up to just a little past Optimus’ shoulder. With purple and red plating and flickering yellow biolights, the mech carried himself with an air of refinery that didn’t seem all that suited for the pits. After a once over, Optimus would guess that the mech had a rotary alt. mode, if the blades protruding from his back were any indication.
Megatronus was glaring, sharp teeth bared in a snarl. Hammerlock’s plating flared, lips twisting into a matching snarl, baring his own sharpened teeth.
“As you can see, he is fine. So why don’t you collect your ration and kindly leave ?” Megatronus rumbled. He shifted, placing his servo flat and leaned forwards - into Hammerlock’s space. With Megatronus standing, the difference in height was more obvious - Hammerlock barely came up to his chest, and Megatronus was used to using his height to intimidate.
The blades on Hammerlock’s back clattered together, and he stood straighter, glare darkening. He placed his servos behind his back and tilted his helm. “I intend to. However-”
He turned to look at Optimus, and his expression melted back into a smile. It seemed so
easy
, so practiced, but it didn’t reach his optic. It was as yellow as the biolights peppering his frame, and the other appeared to be hidden behind an optic aid - very suddenly, the mech seemed so
personable
.
And Optimus knew not to trust it.
“As you have probably learned, I am Hammerlock.” He introduced himself. He placed a servo on his chassis and gave a short bow. “I am the overseer appointed to this particular establishment. If you have anything you need to know, or need a helping servo, I’m more than happy to be of assistance. Now, I will leave you to enjoy your night cycle, and I do hope you adjust well enough before your first match.”
There was a snort from Megatronus. Hammerlock didn’t even look at him. He seemed to not expect an answer from Optimus, as he turned on his heel to leave. He suddenly wasn’t alone, either. An even smaller mech appeared by his side, dark in colouring, face hidden by a mask and visor, carrying two energon cubes. The mech didn’t spare any of them a glance as they fell into step by Hammerlock’s side, and together they disappeared amongst the rows of seated gladiators.
Megatronus sat back down with a low growl, glaring at their retreating backs. “It would have been nice to be warned of his approach.”
Soundwave rolled his shoulders in a shrug. A recording of an unfamiliar voice sounded, “No threat.”
Megatronus scoffed, scooped up his cube of half-spilled energon, and downed it in a single gulp. He slammed the cube back down, dark scowl in place - looking more like the Megatron Optimus remembered in that moment. “Talking to him always leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. No matter what you say, I don’t trust that mech.”
Soundwave just shrugged again - and suddenly, his attention was on Optimus. Optimus stiffened, watching as Soundwave raised a servo - and pointed it at his energon.
“Drink.” A recording of Megatronus’ voice.
Optimus grimaced. His tank still churned - he was still very much on edge, and the thought of consuming any fuel made him want to purge.
But… he did need it. He’s been running on fumes for a long time now.
Reluctantly, he retracted his battlemask, and sipped at the energon. It was cold as it went down his intake and settled heavily within him. Uncomfortable.
Soundwave moved again - placing his servo on the table, palm upwards, claws relaxed.
An invitation.
Optimus swallowed another mouthful, eyeing it wearily. It made sense that Megatronus would want him to talk, and that Soundwave - being the one to know Hand - was the only way to get the information that he wanted.
Optimus didn't trust this situation in the least. He was in a time that had long since passed, and his only allies were the two mechs who were to become his greatest enemies. Truly, there wasn't any other choice he had but to trust them. His processor kept flip flopping, trying to figure out the best course of action; what he wouldn't give for Prowl's calm, logical reasoning in that moment - but Primus, Prowl had died during Cybertron's destruction so long ago -
No, no it hadn't happened yet -
He shuttered his optics. Vented a few times. Retracted the blade protruding from his wrist, hidden by the table, and brought it into view before slowly placing it in Soundwave's claws.
Megatronus was watching him. Not his servo currently held in Soundwaves, but him . Studying him. His optics, his face. The way he held himself.
It was greatly discomforting. Optimus wondered just what Megatronus saw.
Soundwave's claws skirted gently over Optimus' palm. A brief, cursory inquiry, asking about how he was feeling of all things.
Optimus laughed. He couldn't help it. No noise escaped him, just a whoosh of air as it left his vents.
The place where his vocalisor once was felt strained, almost. He wondered distantly if the sensation was actually there , or if he were imagining it.
Optimus was tired of lying. Of sugarcoating things.
He was so damn tired .
“I am not / I do not think I will be.” Was his answer, a faint smile on his face. He didn’t... think that he was giving up, but it felt like the admission was a weight off his shoulders.
He was done lying to himself .
“ We will help you / Megatronus promises / I promise.” Soundwave replied with.
The response felt so earnest . Like it was a truth that Soundwave genuinely believed in, and Optimus -
He wanted to believe him.
That thought hit him once more, not yet fully corrupted by the one that had followed it.
What if they never have to become the enemy?
Optimus wanted, desperately, to just be done with everything. He’d thought he would be, after he’d sacrificed himself.
He wanted to give up.
But… He never was able to truly give up, was he.
Especially not when it came to Megatron.
And this… this was a second chance, in a way, wasn’t it? A chance for everything he had experienced to never happen. A chance to save so many lives…
A chance to save Megatron.
“Let us help you.” Soundwave said.
Optimus smiled. A small, wan thing, and replied, “ Alright.”