Chapter Text
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Megatron stood at the war table, servos folded behind his back struts, optics scanning as he studies the flickering projections of Cybertron. The dim glow cast sharp shadows over his faceplate but his focus was intent.
His lieutenants had presented their individual findings. Soundwave had intercepted encrypted intel sent from an unknown source, meant for the Prime.
The stray intel after some deciphering turned out to be far more interesting than any of them first thought. It turned out to be a condition report, but the tests and their results were completely nonsensical. Shockwave expressed his frustration with it. Impossible readings. Data that defied logic.
At first the scientist had tried to dismiss it. But suspicion festered and interest was peaked in Megatron processors. For the past quartex, their reconnaissance had fixated on two questions: Where had this message came from, and what was Prime’s connection to it?
Now, after orns of careful tracking, and reconnaissance Starscream, Soundwave and Shockwave laid out their findings.
Starscream punctuated the end of his report by jabbing a marker onto the projected map. “This is the approximate location Soundwave traced it to. Our new spy reports the false Prime has been slipping away to an undisclosed location regularly every couple of orns. This must be where he goes when he slithers out of that gilded tower.”
He continued his wings twitching with seething anger he was failing at hiding. “It has been kept under strict control and secrecy for many cycles. The lab predates the uprising and your claim of Koan, my lord.”
Shockwave cut in. “The earliest encrypted transmissions between Prime and this hidden lab can be dated back to even the early days of Sentinel Prime's rule.”
Megatron’s optics darkened. “What kind of research requires a Prime’s constant oversight? And for this long…?” A clawed servo rose to his chin as he studied the marked coordinates. The facility lay just beyond Iacons borders.
Sentinel was no scholar, nor a patron of discovery-his interests were self-indulgence, power, and posturing.
Soundwave stepped forward, claiming the floor. “Research: unknown. Additionally the scouts report the facility is heavily guarded.”
Megatron’s optics narrowed. What had Sentinel been hiding there all these cycles. For a simple research lab, the level of security was excessive. The mech estimates in soundwaves report suggested something more akin to a prison level security.
Shockwave scoffed “Lord Megatron, I still doubt the validity of the few deciphered reports-look at these readings. These spectroscopies-” His digits tapped at the screen bringing up highlighted data. “And then… medical logs? Why would these be in the same report? An official Prime-sanctioned facility, keeping records like this? It doesn't add up.”
Starscream, eager to take action, chimed in. “Another reason to simply tear it down and seize whatever tech they’ve been hiding. They’re probably fabricating these reports, trying to cover their tracks. We could be missing crucial information.”
Shockwave’s optic brightened with a darker implication. “Prime could be conducting mech experimentation. Tests, augmentations, splicing, who knows what kind of horrors they’ve been hiding?” He glanced toward the others, the faintest glimmer of excitement flickering in his optic, but the others didn’t share his morbid enthusiasm.
Shockwave continued, “If Sentinel is overseeing this personally, it must be something important. But if we strike, and he is there…” He let the thought hang in the air, heavy with unspoken consequences.
“Sentinel will not be at the lab tomorrow.” Soundwave projected a high council missive onto the screen in front of Megatron.
Megatron scanned the message requesting Sentinel Primes council and over site.
Sentinel had taken cycles to recognize Kaon as lost, and longer still to acknowledge Megatron’s rise and rule.
The mines, the gladiator pits Megatron had clawed his way out of both, The system Sentinel enforced was crumbling beneath him and his Decepticons needed every advantage against Iacon and Sentinels want to control them.
A blitz then. It would be quick. It would be decisive. It would be destructive.
Megatron stepped back from the war table, extending a pede as he leaned back into his throne. With a slow, dismissive wave of his servo, he addressed his inner council.
“Prepare the Decepticons for battle.”
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Megatron’s cannon roared, the blast tearing a clean hole through the guard’s chassis. Energon splattered across the workstations, painting the screens in a grotesque pattern as the now-lifeless mech collapsed, its body crumpling with a hollow thud.
The air in the facility was thick with the scent of spilt energon and echoed with the sounds of violence. Megatron’s cannon hissed, cooling rapidly as he shoved the corpse aside, his tall, imposing form moving with cold efficiency toward the nearest workstation. He didn’t pause to consider the carnage, his focus entirely on the task at hand.
Shockwave rushing beside Megatron, shockwave linked up and downloaded what he could from the large main terminal, his digits dancing over the screen as he downloaded the data.
Meanwhile, Megatron sifted through the scattered datapads on the desk, searching for anything that might provide more answers.
Outside the large room the pair was in, the chaos of the battle raged on.
Shockwave, Soundwave, Knockout and a few more trusted mechs selected from intelligence were broken up into teams.
Each squad and pair were tasked to gather as much intel they could, destroying what they couldn't. Seekers and ground fighters covered them during the rushed attack and the fighting could be heard throughout the halls as the scientist and guards battled with the Decepticon intruders.
Time was of the essence and they had to be quick.
Once they breached the facilities it was a lightning assault, the amount of guards was troublesome letting some of the scientists escape during the combat.
But they were not the primary target, The intel was the prize and whatever tech or experiments Sentinel was working on kept here under lock and key. That was what Megatron intended to claim from Primes clutches.
The lab had spiraled downward and the amount of guards grew the deeper they went.
The facility’s connection to the main power grid failed, plunging the building into darkness. The red emergency lights flared to life dimming in and out of brightness, as sirens wailed through the hallways.
The top most levels were generic and ordinary for a research center. The further down they went it became more unsettling, more clearly built for sinister intel.
The many lab doors they broke down revealed grim examination chambers. Medical berths with chains, stasis cuffs, and dark isolation rooms.
There was an operating room with clear glass walls designed for outside observation like an audience. The air grew more sterile as they moved down, the distant fighting in the upper levels became a low hum.
Shockwave and Megatron found themselves in the large deepest most medical laboratory, The room was a maze of desks, terminals, and strange machines that Megatron didn’t recognize. But Shockwave had no interest in any of them.
When the Megatron offlined the last guard in the room he grew irritated. They hadn't found anything yet that explains the ridiculous level of security and resources spent on the secrecy of this place.
Megatron looked at an assortment of tools scattered around the work stations meant to restrain, to test, to break. Scalpels, lazers, drills it was making even Megatron's internals flip.
Yet, for all this they hadn’t encountered a single test subject. Haven't found any holding cells or mechs that weren't scientists, technicians, and armed guards. Just those employed by the primacy.
Shockwave was clearly disappointed at the lack of test subjects to poke and prod at.
Megatron picked up a datapad ignoring the sound of gunfire and the clashing of metal echoing through the halls above them.
He wiped the guards energon from its surface. His optics narrowed, scanning the strange symbols and drawings etched into the pad, but the markings meant nothing to him. The words beneath the symbols were gibberish, incomprehensible. His derma and optic ridges pinched in frustration. With a sharp flick of his wrist, he tossed the datapad aside, letting it clatter onto the desk.
A sudden crash of glass snapped both Megatron and Shockwave to attention. The sound was close, separate from the distant fighting from levels above.
Shockwave quickly pulled his external link from the terminal he was downloading and joined the grey mech. The two warframes moved swiftly, stepping deeper into the research wing following the sound of shattering glass.
They traced it to a locked door at the back of the large lab space. Megatron wasted no time. He fired, shattering the lock and with a clawed servo, he yanked the heavy metal door open. The screech of tearing steel echoed through the high ceilings.
Inside a white-and-red, medic framed mech was frantically scrambling around a cramped storage room. The chill in the air hit them instantly. Their vents hissed out condensation at the sudden temperature change.
It was cold storage.
Shelves lined the walls, stocked with rows of vials and sealed containers, most of which had been knocked over.
Thick viscous blue liquid dripped from the knocked over glass container, pooling on the floor. Extracted energon.
The medic was hunched over a messy workstation at the far back of the room, muttering to himself. Another crash rang out as another vial shattered at his pedes. His servos trembled as he clutched several more vials to his chest, his movements frenzied and sporadic.
Shockwave and Megatron shot each other puzzled looks.
Megatron’s cannon activated purple glow filled the room. He and Shockwave moved in, closing the distance before the mech could destroy anything else in his glitching servos.
This had to be something important to the Prime.
“Hand over what you’ve got,” Megatron ordered his voice sharp on his tongue.
The mech froze, his back to them straightened to an alarming stiffness.
“Please! I-Please! Don’t shoot!” he blurted, spinning around and throwing the last vials onto the floor. Glass shattered at his pedes, a strange liquid splattering before seeping down a grated drain beneath the medic mech.
Megatron’s optics darted to the mess. The silvery liquid shimmered unnaturally, its luminescent sheen trailing down into the darkness below. It was not like the veils that lined the walls and stained the floor, it wasn't energon.
Shockwave stepped forward, his optic narrowing as he tracked the substance flow down into the drains. “What were you destroying?” His voice was calm but the weight of the unsaid threat was unmistakable.
The medic’s optics darted wildly, his trembling frame pressed against his workstation trying to put distance between the smaller medic and the imposing Decepticons.
His muttering never stopped. A constant stream on frantic whispers spilled from his intake. “Prime” was the only word the larger mechs could understand then shortly after “protocol…” was muttered. The medics vents hitched, static crackling through his vocalizer.
Then suddenly, his gaze snapped to the door behind them.
Megatron saw the shift a second too late.
The mech lunged, shoving past them with surprising speed.
“After him!” Megatron snarled.
Their large pedes thundered against the floor as they pursued. The medic’s frantic steps came echoing through the hallway. But he wasn’t running toward an exit.
He was running deeper into the facility. Megatron was sure this was the last floor. The mech wasn’t fleeing.
He was trying to reach something.
The pair of Decepticons rounded a corner just as the medic slipped through a barely visible door that had begun to close behind the white-and-red mech.
The door was so flush with the wall that a mech wouldn’t notice it unless they were looking for it.
Megatron raised his cannon and fired before it could fully slide shut. The blast tore through the locking mechanism and its frame, forcing the door back open.
The chase ended in a dead-end corridor.
The medic skidded to a halt. He barely had time to react before Shockwave fired. The shot struck his pede clean off.
The medic collapsed with a cry, energon smearing across the floor as he thrashed in pain. But he didn’t beg. He didn’t stop.
He began crawling, dragging his busted frame toward the far wall, his optics wild. Servos clawing into the floor for purchase.
Still muttering. Still whispering.
Megatron watched as he caught his vents, what was wrong with this mech.
“Take him, we can extract intel on whatever he was destroying from his processor.”
Shockwave nodded his agreement and tried his best to hide the new light in his optic. He strode forward, and clamped a stasis cuff onto the medic’s wrist. The white-and-red mech let out a static-laced screech, his scalpel-like digits scratched at the purple mech in the struggle as Shockwave silenced him with a jolt to his frame.
The medic slumped offline, and Shockwave hoisted him over his shoulder with ease and moved back towards the door.
Megatron, however, didn’t move.
His optics lingered on the wall the medic had been crawling towards. Purposely he stepped forward and dragged his knuckle joints against it.
Hollow.
“My lord, we must leave.” Shockwave’s voice cut through the silence. “We’re already pushing it.”
Megatron didn’t turn. His optics glowed excitedly reflecting off the polished wall onto his helm, as he ran his servo along the cold metal.
“Go,” he said, ignoring how the intruder sirens began to grow louder. “I’ll be a moment. I’ll catch up.”
Shockwave hesitated. “My lord—”
Megatron shot him a look. The kind that needed no further argument.
Shockwave bowed his helm. “Yes, Lord Megatron.”
Without another word, he turned, carrying the unconscious medic out of the corridor.
Megatron ex-vented slowly, clawed digits dragging over the wall with a deliberate scrape. There was something here.
Something Sentinel had gone to great lengths to keep hidden longer than Megatron had been functioning.
Megatron would take whatever it was. Rip it from Sentinel’s grasp, He’ll have great pleasure taking it, and using it for himself against the false prime.
He wished he could see Sentinel’s faceplate after word reaches him.
“Now what have you got buried down here.”
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
He paced back and forth along the wall tracing the wall feeling for any possible seams.
No access terminal, no obvious hidden door, there had to be some way the medic was planning to access whatever was behind this wall.
Likely a private high-clearance internal HUD command Megatron deduced. The mech was so desperate and crazed… What was he planning to do? Destroy whatever was there? An alternative escape path. Hide or escape with what was hidden behind the wall?
Megatron rested his servo on the center of the long wall, tapping the wall with a loud thud, it echoed once more. He listened, placing his helm to the cold sheet metal.
Silence.
But then after a breath followed the drag of metal on metal, it was small but Megatron was certain he heard it.
A message flickered across his HUD from Soundwave. “Reinforcements inbound.”
Megatron rubbed a servo over his faceplate. If this was a trap, he would simply carve his way through it. If it was something Sentinel had hidden, something precious enough to keep buried in this wretched pit… then it was his to take.
He backed up a long way, raised his fusion cannon, and fired.
The wall melted in the cannon's path leaving a clear hole.
Megatron approached, leaning into the opening he created, his optics auto-adjusting, brightening to cut through the murk.
The air inside was stale with disuse, carrying the faint bite of old coolant and sterilization fluids. It smelled more like a tomb than anything else.
His gaze swept the chamber. Barren beside an adjustable medical berth, its restraints unlocked but still resting in place, as if waiting. A workstation sat nearby, cluttered with empty vials and other tools Megatron couldn't make out in the darkness.
There were no doors, no terminals. What was the purpose of sealing this room away…
A shift of metal dragging against metal whispered over the stillness.
His optics snapped to the far end of the room to his right, where something moved. A dark mass, small and hunched, pressed against the wall as if a part of the very shadows around it. He thought his optics were glitching. He swore he saw a faint glow in that darkness.
He took a step closer and began running a quick recalibrating his optics. They had to be glitching.
Chains snapped taut as something lunged forward. Accompanied with the sound of transformation, but it was not quite right.
Not the familiar song of shifting panels and locking joints, but something else, something wrong.
Megatron’s optics shot down with confusion as he took in the materialized form of a mech before him. The mech was chained. Servos bound behind his back struts in high-security stasis cuffs, pedes chained tight to the floor, a thick collar around his neck chaining him to the wall behind. He was kneeling, struggling against his restraints, blue optics burning with rage as they locked onto Megatron’s.
Blue like the hottest part of a dying ember searing, and scalding the Decepticon leader. The mech was practically snarling behind that battle mask.
His optics must have missed the mech in his recalibration, his processors tried to rationalize. Megatron stepped back, registering the mech in front of him for the first time. Something about this mech was… familiar.
The shape of his helm. The tall central crest. Statues of Prima Prime. That was it. It wasn’t exact, no, but the resemblance was there.
And he was the only one here.
Megatron’s optics flicked across the room again, absorbing every detail with renewed scrutiny. No other prisoners. No containment units. No observation decks. All of this, the security, the research, the guards… it was all for him.
Why?
The chains rattled again as the mech lurched forward, shoulders snapping taut, trying to push himself upright. But the sheer level of confinement forced him back down.
He was larger than a cogless, but still small compared to Megatron's size.
Megatron stepped closer in front of the mech hunched over lunging at him like a starved hellhound. A civilian build, the level of confinement used was excessive, bordering on absurd.
Even he wasn’t restrained this heavily in the pits, and he had been rebuilt from the ground up for battle.
Megatron crouched, resting his servos on his knees just out of reach of the feisty mech.
His tall twin finials pinned back in aggression. The movement was almost feral. A beast backed into a corner, yet still baring its fangs out of habit.
Megatron tilted his helm in amusement “What is your designation?”
The reaction was immediate.
The mech froze. Not in fear, but something else. The finials that had been pinned flat shot up, betraying his surprise.
Megatron grinned.
Those burning optics, once filled with unrelenting fury, softened just for a moment of confusion.
With a shhkt his battle mask retracted with a smooth, mechanical click, revealing his face.
Iridescent silver. Strong, but not overly chiseled, a balance of refinement and softness. And his derma was full, almost pouty.
Megatron’s smirk widened.
Well now… what exactly had Sentinel Prime been hiding here?
The imprisoned mech still hadn’t answered him, just stared wide optic, analyzing the new mech for the first time in honest.
Megatron stood, powered his fusion cannon, and that glare sharpened at him again, growing fierce, as if expecting an attack.
But when the chain anchoring the smaller mech to the wall fell to the floor with a loud metallic thud, that look at Megatron dimmed into something uncertain.
His vents hitched, and his optics darted between the ruined chain and Megatron’s claws, which were already working their way over to the remaining bindings of the pedes.
“...Orion” the voice was static as he heard the mech recalibrate his vocals “…Orion Pax.”.
Megatron pulled out his sword and worked on slicing the chains around the pedes chaining Orion to his kneeling position.
“Orion,” Megatron tested the name as he put on his most even toned voice “-reinforcements will be here soon,” he didn’t wish to spook the smaller mech again into his previous animal-like defensiveness.
“We do not have time to waste with discussion.” He finished with a rough swing of his blade breaking the chains with some effort. He yanked the chains off the blue pedes wrapping a clawed servor under the mech's shoulder.
Megatron helped guide Orion to standing, notably the Decepticon did not fully free the prisoner. left the cuffs locking the servos behind the prisoner back struts and the collar still clung to his throat, a long chain dragging in his wake as Orion stretched out his stiffness.
“You have two options, come with me or stay-” Megtron let go of his hold as the shakiness in Orion's form lessened he stepped back in front of the mech taking in the now standing oddity.
Primus…
Blue, red, silver plating accented in gold, slightly dulled by time and neglect. Scuffs, welds, and grime covered his plating, but beneath it, the regal design was still very visible. He was like an unearthed artifact, able to see the precious metal through the effects of time.
What made his processor halt was subtle light behind the dark tinted chassis window. He had never seen a spark so visible it was only slightly hidden from full view by the dark tint of the chassis window.
Megatron’s optics fell lower, taking in the spaces between Orion’s plating. Most mechs had only minor gaps, just enough for transformation seams and flexibility. But Orion’s protoform…
It moved, like mixed energon being stirred in a clear glass.
Not just shifting as he vented, but swirling, undulating, it was like cosmic dust suspended in dark oil. A shimmering darkness, fluid and electric.
Where most mechs’ plating served as armor, locking down and protecting every vulnerable seam and internal mechanisms, this one’s was different.
It framed him rather than covered him, like his protoform needed no true protection at all, just a vessel to keep it contained.
Was this mech an entirely different species or was this a product of sentinel. Of Cybertronian CNA testing. Megatron had trouble connecting such otherworldliness to Sentinel's handiwork.
Megatron felt himself being pulled into keep gazing at this mech. No wonder the prime buried this mech away, whatever this being was it had the power to trance megatron in just a few nano-kilks.
A mech so regal and ethereal locked away in the dark.
What was Orion to him?
Megatron had seen prisoners of war. He had seen mechs dissected for their abilities, their codes repurposed and studied, their very existences wiped to fuel the Prime’s endless greed for control and his seemingly ever growing strength.
Megatron’s optics fell back to that swirling protoform, the shimmer of something impossible shifting just beneath the surface.
What are you?
A hollow humorless chuckle left his vocals as his helm shook.
“No wonder he buried you down here.”
Megatron's processor snapped back to the present situation when an explosion was heard echoing down the hall.
He had almost forgotten … His red optics shot back to the smaller mech, who was giving Megatron a once over likely taking in his curved sharp angles, his sheer mass and scars, but mostly Orion was scanning his faceplate as he came back from wherever his processor had been.
Megatron turned, striding toward the hole in the wall.
“We’re destroying this facility. Decide now.” He gestured lazily. “Stay here and deal with the rubble and Sentinel—”
He watched the face plate contort in its first true flinch, a grimace at the mention of the prime “or follow me, and leave this prison.”
“...Just to walk into a new one.” Orion spoke his deeper voice settling back into its natural tone, the static still along the edges.
Megatron scoffed with a roll of his optics. “Perhaps. But I promise you this—” his voice dipped low and purposefully. “My chains might be easier to break.”
Orion held his gaze. Calculating the large grey mech's meaning.
Take the chance, or stay in the same endless cycle. It might be better, it might be worse. But at least it was an option. A chance. A possibility. That was what the sharp grinned mech was offering him, the option, not a promise.
He would be a fool to take it as a promise...
The two mechs stared at each other threw the darkness of Orion's usual isolation.
Another explosion sounded and a message popped up on Megatron's HUD, he ignored it knowing it was a final warning from Soundwave.
Orion steeled his glare at the taller mech but let out a shuddered vent and his shoulders relaxed just a inch or so. He stepped forward to follow the grey and purple mech.
Megatron grinned.
Smart choice.
He was going to take the mech either way. But it was always easier when simple words got the job done. More gratifying.
Without warning, Megatron moved.
A sharp broken yelp tore from Orion intake as he was hauled off the ground, holding the mech in his servos keeping him tight to his chassis. Orion thrashed, kicking, but with his servos still bound in high-security stasis cuffs, it was pitifully ineffective.
“What! Put me down! I can run!”
Megatron only chuckled, comming Soundwave as he took off at a sprint.
“Update.”
Soundwave’s voice crackled through his comm. “Explosives are set.”
“Lord Megatron,” he added flatly, “you have two kliks.”
Megatron smirked, ignoring the furious protests of the mech cradled in his arm.
“I’ll be there in one.”
Orion growled, hot vents steaming on Megatrons chassis plating, as Orion struggled again. “I said put me down you glitch!”
Soundwave must have heard him over the comm, because a moment later, his voice came through again, slightly sharper.
“Lord Megatron…”
A pause.
“Who is with you?”
Megatron’s triumphant smirk deepened. “What we came for.”