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Title: MegatronxOptimus Prime(Orion Pax) Drabbles	By : Chaosdreamer Category: Transformers > G1 > Crossovers Views: 2797 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Transformers and all recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro. I am making no profit writing these stories.

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- 1-Title: MegatronxOptimus Prime(Orion Pax) Drabbles
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Title: MegatronxOptimus Prime(Orion Pax) Drabbles
Author: dreamerchaos
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro. I'm only playing with them.
Rating: G all the way to Mature.
Summary: Short, short drabbles, ranging from G to Mature. Alternate Universes. Be warned. Slash between two mechs. Takes place in G1, IDW, 2007 movie, and ‘Revenge of the Fallen’ universe. So beware of SPOILERS. None of these drabbles are are meant to be in consecutive order.
Author’s Note: I planned another alphabet sequence with this pairing, but for some reason I am having a harder time than planned finishing, so I thought I’d simply post the drabbles I’ve managed to write so far…

B is for Brother
(Revenge of the Fallen Universe)

The bereft look upon Optimus Prime’s facial plating as the weapon activates, gives Megatron great pleasure. Looming behind the Prime as he falls onto his knees, Megatron leans close, watching the spectacle in awe as the towering weapon fires, piercing the planet’s sun, beginning the harvesting process.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Megatron purrs into his audio, long sharp fingers curling around his brother’s shoulders. Grinning against the gleaming blue paint of the Prime’s tall antennae, molding his greater bulk against his brother’s back.

A mournful, low trill trickles from behind the Prime’s battle mask. Watching as the sun ever so slightly flickers, turning a malevolent ruby above them.

It is not very long before the sun is swallowed by darkness. As the light fades, Optimus Prime falls like a broken marionette into Megatron’s arms, helm falling back against the Decepticon leader’s shoulders, face awash by the gleamed red optics as Megatron curls around him as the planet is engulfed in pitch black.

On the planet where the Nemesis rests, Megatron’s soldiers deposit their prisoners within the small, but swiftly growing city that is budding around the massive ship’s shadow. The Decepticons eager to rebuild something that reminded them of Cybertron while the energon gathering process continued, until they had enough fuel to give their planet life once more.

A rare few of the Autobots offer resistance. Too many defeated by the sight of the planet Earth turning into a cold, dark gravitating husk of its former self.

Optimus Prime is no longer a contest. Megatron feels no worry in locking the former leader within the sconces of his private quarters ¯ more for the comatose Prime’s sake, since Megatron was irked by the too frequent glances that Starscream threw in the direct of the silent Autobot.

Megatron returns to the chamber of his master, stepping towards the seated Fallen. “All has gone according to plan.”

The Fallen grinned, hissing with mirth, “After so long…finally I have attained what was hidden away from me for all this time.”

“What of Prime, Master?”

The Fallen tilted his helm, assessing his apprentice. “I doubt he is a threat to me any longer.” He admits, pondering the status of his remaining descendant, “He is bereaved by his failure. A wound that may never heal.”

His master’s smile drags a shiver up Megatron’s back strut, “But that is not the answer you truly seek, is it?” The Fallen purrs knowingly.

“Master?”

The Fallen chuckles darkly, “I have seen the way that you look at him.” The mech drums his long, oily black and burning red fingers upon the arm of his throne, coolly assessing the Decepticon.

“…I only wonder if you will allow him to remain unharmed.” Megatron admits.

The Fallen’s optics narrow, a rare show of anger slowly flickering across his facial plating, “I am not unaware of the attachment you have to your brother. Such a bond is not foreign to me.” He hisses coldly, “While my brothers were fools to devote their Sparks and sacrifice themselves to protect those miserable organic creatures, they were still mine.”

The Fallen shrunk into his seat, his next words a low whisper, “What fools…If only they had listened to reason…my Primes. My brothers. Mine…”

He lifted his head, rattling his shoulders as if to shake off the ill thoughts that consumed his processor, “He is yours now, Megatron. Touch him. Embrace him. Swallow him whole and fill his well to the brim.” The Fallen grinned wide, knowingly eyeing the Decepticon, not blind to the lust that burned so fiercely in the leader’s gaze, “You are the conqueror, and his is your prize. Enjoy him well.”

Megatron bowed, lowering his helm in deference to the great gift laid upon him, “Thank you, my master.”

The Fallen waved him away, “Go,” He commands, “Your attention is elsewhere now. Do not bore me by pretending otherwise.”

The Decepticon does not fail to disappoint. Taking to his alternate mode, blasting through the thick gouge in the Nemesis’s hull, impatient to return to his brother and affirm his reunion with the Prime who had for so long resisted and shunned him.

They had so much time now to correct the eons and badges that separated them for so long.

C is for Craving
(IDW Universe)

The match fell to him. Amidst the roar of the applauding crowd, Megatron strode with a confident cock to his hips, purposely bumping Clench’s shoulder with a contemptuous rude screech of metal against Clench’s darker paint.

Their team leader stumbles beneath the surprise blow. Gold optics burning hatefully at the impudent gladiator, winged crests and battle mask enunciating the fine, glaring fire in Clench’s gaze.

Megatron sneered caustically. “I’ll be in my chambers.” He graces the gladiator team’s leader with the casual statement.

Clench purrs an uncomplimentary hiss, “Do be so kind to say hello to Orion for me, wouldn’t you, Megatron?”

It garnered to reaction he’d hoped for. Megatron’s shoulders jerk, ruby optics threatening to shear the paint off his plating.

With boiling fury, Megatron’s footfalls strike a drumming, angry tempo as the gladiator marches to his private chambers. Savagely smashing his hand against the keypad, causing the numerical pads to shriek beneath the harsh assault.

Orion’s helm rises, optics shifting from the data pad in hand. A sweet smile flickering away from his face at the look on Megatron’s face, “What happened?” The mech rose to his pedes, discarding the data pad on the berth.

The gladiator snarled, bitterly shutting the door behind him with a cruel snap of the metal against the frame.

Orion steps forward to meet the simmering gladiator. Petting, run smooth metal hands up and down the mech’s broad chassis. On his tiptoes, he slides his arms around the gladiator’s neck, murmuring words of endearments into Megatron’s audio.

“It was Clench.” Orion does not need to ask the question of what is troubling the mech. Peppering adoring kisses upon Megatron’s cheeks and neck, “He succeeded in stirring your temper.”

Megatron’s hands sink in between the plating upon Orion’s hips. “I hate him.” He seethes.

“He certainly knows the best way to prod a rumbling dragon without losing his head.” Orion carefully maneuvers backwards, each step coaxing a tug, insistently leading the gladiator to the berth. Sitting down beside the reluctant mech, “He manipulates his position as team leader in order to spite and taunt you, and yet you cannot react.” Orion traces his fingertips along the wedged chin, “And you encourage him by attacking him at every available interval.”

“Enough.” Megatron shoves Orion back, but does so carefully, gently leading the mech to lie back on the berth, “I didn’t come here to gossip about that fragger.”

Orion grins, moaning softly as the gladiator smoothly slides between welcoming thighs. He gasps as Megatron’s sharp denta snag along his dermal plating, arching into the shivering fine line of pain and pleasure dancing down his throat, “You summoned me here for a purpose.” With an expert thrust, he pushes his hips up and down, teasing his berth partner, “What other reason would a champion gladiator send for a pleasure bot?”

“Don’t speak about yourself in such a manner.” Megatron frowns. Ardor fading, hands pinning Orion down, forcing him to halt his methods to stir the gladiator’s lust.

“It’s the truth isn’t it?” Orion lifts his helm, nipping at Megatron’s lips, “Please don’t be angry with me…it is a choice that I made. When my employment at the docks was severed, what other choice did I have?”

“You were lured here by a scout.”

“And look at how far I’ve come.” Orion lays back; arms’ framing his helm as blue optics scan the long, broad lines of the gladiator arched above him. “I have a roof over my head. Energon in my fuel tank. From what I’ve gathered, I have quite a few admirers among the gladiators, especially when the great and powerful Megatron keeps me in his berth for cycles without end.” His impish grin softens the bitter truth of his plight. The poisonous reality that he had started out as nothing, afraid and weak from hunger, following the pasted on smile and gentle hand of the scout that lured him down into the web of the illegal gladiator games.

The shock of his first time, a nameless security guard as his back, being pushed into the chamber of a prizewinning gladiator. Trembling under the massive red hands, while the gladiator rumbles an appreciative growl as the red and blue mech shudders forth a weak cry as they sprawl onto the berth.

Orion swiftly shuffles those memories away. Remembering to grace a smile upon his lips.

“You haven’t lain with any of the other gladiators since I claimed you. No one else, except…” Megatron halts, the grit of his sharp denta signifying the rise of his anger once more.

Orion lays his forefingers upon the gladiator’s silver lips, hushing him before his anger brings forth words that he would soon regret. “Clench is the team leader. I can not go against him.” Orion attempts to cool his temper with inflexible reason, “I would rather lie with you, but Clench can be particularly… assertive and hard to ignore at the best of times.”

The gladiator’s silence doesn’t hide his displeasure. Orion forcefully kisses the mech, returning Megatron’s attention to the present, tearing him from his internal maelstrom of bitter thoughts.

“Do not focus on him.” Orion rocks against him. Shuddering as Megatron’s codpiece scrapes his, “Focus on me, Megatron.”

Megatron rumbled an affirmative, thrusting against his wriggling berth partner. “Say it again.” He whispers huskily, delving his fingertips into the seams and indentations, glossa tickling the pleasure bot’s audio as his thumb rubs the sealed plating over Orion’s valve.

Orion gasps, helm falling back against the berth as his partner slides closer, mounting him with the instinctive thrust against the warm valve, the pleasure bot’s plating snapped open prior to allow the spike to drive forward. “Megatron!”

It is difficult to contain his ire several orns later. Another gladiator death match under his belt.

But he is hardly proud of his victory. On the other side of the massive ring, Clench is purring into Orion’s audio, keyed up from the gruesome battle, lusting and desiring a warm pair of arms and a good long interface. Black clawed fingers kneading the sensitive plating of the pleasure bot’s shoulders.

Orion shivers at the proprietary caress. Daring a remorseful glance over his shoulder, cheerless azure optics meet ruby.

Orion mouths an apology as Clench leads him with a hand on his shoulder, no doubt establishing his claim on the pleasure bot for the remainder of the night cycle. Over Orion’s helm, gold optics gloat, sneering victoriously in Megatron’s direction.

The gladiator seethes. “Wait and see, Clench.” He promises, “I believe it is high time that we are appointed a new team leader.” Roiling energy spilling from his optics, licking at the jagged ruby tattoos upon his cheeks. Nearby gladiators shirk away, recognizing the potency of Megatron’s focused ire as he boils with rage. Frenzy and Rumble cackling at his side, the Minibots sharing their mirth, knowing that Clench would not be long with them after Megatron had his way.

D is for Duty
(2007 Universe)

“I’m afraid…”

Megatron snarled at the Council representatives. Curling around his brother, long, curled claws sliding up and down Orion’s waist. “Leave us.” He snapped his jagged grin at the gold-crested mechs, the armored assembly ducking their decorated helms in cowed submission. Quickly backing out of the room before the Lord High Protector’s razor-sharp glare threatened to sever their helms from their shoulders.

“Brother.” Orion leaned into Megatron’s extensive arms, tucking his helm upon the warm breadth of the Lord High Protector’s broad chest plates. Arms folded upon his blue and silver lap, swaying within his brother’s unwavering support. “I can’t do this…me…a Prime…there must be a mistake.”

“Sentinel Prime designated you as his heir.” Megatron affectionately nipped along his brother’s jaw, purring a tremble of clicks and trills to soothe Orion’s frazzled neural sensory network.

“I don’t know how to demonstrate myself as a pillar of strength and trust in front of the citizens of Cybertron.”

“The Matrix chose you for a reason.”

“It should go to you!” Orion beseeched his brother with desperate hands clawing at his brother’s shoulders, begging for Megatron’s endorsement with wide blue optics, “You are Lord High Protector! Why wouldn’t the Matrix choose a warrior such as you? Perhaps the Council is wrong…”

Megatron clutched Orion’s trembling hands within his, the large cage of claws stroking the graceful silver fingers and smooth palms, “I want you to stand at my side. My other half…You will not fail, my brother. You will not fail me.” He kissed the folded hands, bringing the back of Orion’s fingers up to stroke the sharp metal lines of his cheek.

Orion’s joints relax, sighing and willingly crumbling entirely into the Lord High Protector’s grip. He took in the thrumming heat, the pulse of Megatron’s Spark against the sealed plates of their chassis. Voice melodious and soft, he states, “…If my brother is at my side, then I can not falter. I will not fail you in this, Megatron. My Lord High Protector.”

“Yesss. We shall not fail.” Megatron breathes, tracking a scratchy trail along the fine arch of Orion’s helm, growling against the faint tremble and purr that his brother echoed, “My Optimus Prime.”

E is for Entertainment
(IDW Universe)

“No! Let me go!”

Megatron halts near the alleyway, observing several of his soldiers harassing a young mech. The red and blue paintwork peeking between the black and purple bodywork of the three aggressors. Their victim kicks and wails, wrists trapped by the opponent at his back, one of the others cursing with the third wrestles forward to try and capture the flailing limbs.

“What is this?” The soldiers cringe as their leader suddenly emerges within their private, dank quarter, “Am I waging this war while my soldiers amuse themselves by manhandling and assaulting a civilian?” Megatron snarls. His subordinates whimper.

“S-Sir, we were taking this mech prisoner¯”

The speaker curses shrilly when the civilain’s pede smashes into his codpiece. Snapping his helm backwards, the metal cracks against his attacker’s nasal ridge.

Within those few precious astroseconds their prisoner tears free, dashing for the alleyway entrance.

Megatron swings around, palming the back of the red and blue mech’s nape. Twisting about, he slams his victim onto the ground. The civilian crying out sharply, fingers scraping along the ground as he tries to crawl and twist free.

“You three get out of my sight,” The Decepticons shrivel underneath his ruby, potent glare, “I will handle this one since it appears to be beyond your expertise to restraint one single, unarmed civilian.”

His soldiers bow and scrape up the tiny mercy their leader bestows upon them, retreating swiftly when Megatron growls low, beginning to lose his thin shred of patience with their sluggish reaction to his command.

Once the soldiers are out of sight, joining the rest of Megatron’s rallied army looting and tearing apart the city, the large silver mech returns his attention back to his captive.

“For someone lacking the tools or upgrades to take on a single adversary, you are either extremely brave or terribly foolish to go against three.” Megatron yanks the mech up, forcing him onto his knees.

The silver facial plates twist in pain and roiling terror, and he wraps trembling hands around the warlord’s thick wrist, “Let me go! I am a civilian! I’m not involved in this riot!”

“Every mech and femme not quick enough to remove themselves from the city are by default under my possession. As such, they may either join my army, or offer a variety of…entertainment for my weary soldiers after a long, hard battle.” Megatron purrs the dark warning into his audio.

“You’re barbaric!” The mech gasps, pedes slipping along the slick surface of the alley floor as he is hauled all the way upright, pressed flat against the passageway wall. Trapped between the unmoving pillars that are the warlord’s arms, black hands laid flat on either side of his prisoner’s helm, “You can’t confine and collar us like we’re wild beasts! We have rights! We are citizens of Kaon!”

“Wake up, little mech,” Blue optics squint in mistrust, shirking back further against the wall when the tyrant leans closer to whisper conspiratorially, “Haven’t you been watching? Kaon has fallen to its knees. Your rights, your cries for mercy and freedom, fall mute upon the audios of dead empire.”

His captive’s hands slap against his chassis, unsuccessfully levering his slighter bulk to try to push the tyrant away.

Megatron snaps the blue and silver wrists within a large hand, ruby gaze and crimson war paint shining in the azure reflection of the civilian’s optics.

“You are an amusement.” The mech whines at the too tight grip that surrounds his wrists, arms trapped between their chassis’. His vents shudder, choking when the other black painted hand slips down, teasing the almost detectable seam of the mech’s port inlaid into the sapphire blue codpiece.

“Perhaps you may offer another sort of entertainment.”

“N-No.” The civilian gasps.

When the tyrant shoves his slimmer partner back, forcing his wider frame between the mech’s thighs, he halts only when his comm. link pings for his attention.

“Commander! Sir! Sentinel Prime!! He’s here! He’s¯aaarggkkktt!!!”

“Finally,” Megatron sneers, “Prime deigns to honor us with his glorious entrance onto the battle arena.”

He releases his reluctant partner, the mech collapsing onto the ground of the alley. Shivering and curling away from the tyrant, shielding his face, suspecting a cruel hand to fall and strike.

“I’ll continue with you later.” Megatron leers boldly, turning and running an affectionate hand down the barrel of the fusion cannon mounted upon his right arm, “But first, I plan to tear Sentinel Prime’s Spark from his chassis.”

As the warlord’s footfalls become fainter, his broad silver back fading into the distance, Orion carefully lowers his hands. Swallowing nervously, he begins to heave his frame up off the ground when¯

“You Will Remain With Me,” He startles, not realizing that another mech stood at the opposite entrance into the alleyway. Reflexively jerkin backwards at the sight of the blaster in the strangely masked mech’s hand, yellow optical band scrutinizing Orion’s every move, “You Will Remain With Me Until Commander Megatron Finishes With Sentinel Prime.”

“H-He won’t win.” Orion dares to challenge Soundwave’s avowal, “No one has ever remained standing against Sentinel Prime.”

The yellow band flashes, sliding over the mech, “You Are Not the First to Prove Incorrect in Your Assessment of Lord Megatron,” He states impassively.

H is for Hands
(IDW Universe)

“Megatron?…” Orion freezes in the doorway of his tiny apartment unit. He scans the scratched, damaged appearance of his old friend, dropping to his knees in front of the miner seated upon the shabby settee in his main living quarters, “Primus, what happened to you?!” He ran his hands over the jagged wounds, hissing as his blue paint came back with spatters of old, dried energon laced with the shimmering lattice of fresh lavender, “I thought you were scheduled to be on Mining Outpost C-12?!”

“…There was an incident..” The miner spoke finally, voice gruff from stress and the strain of his injuries, “It was vitally important that my comrades and I flee. We are currently situated in Kaon…Security is on our afts after information was leaked about one of our…matches.”

“You should be seen by a medic…” The dockworker analyzes the various wounds, a frown bedecking his features. The wounds…they appeared to have been made by some sort of energon weapon…But…how on Cybertron would Megatron have come across such a device? “But you came here?” Orion began to fuss and try to wipe off as much of the old energon stains as possible, trying to peer closer to better assess the damage, “Why?”

“I came for you.”

“W-What?” Orion halts.

“Do you remember that promise we had made together?”

Orion’s plating develops a flush of heat. Yes…he remembers the oil bar…

Too much noxious oil and high-grade. The dark corner of the bar, the laughter of two friends with mutual background of grueling jobs with too little pay…the buzz of too much drink…the first kiss…Coaxed onto his back on the berth in the quarters off from the living room after quietly leading the miner back to his apartment unit.

The miner hovering above him…crying out, wincing and digging his hands into Megatron’s shoulders as the interface cable slowly pierces him. The slow building thrusts, the elation and ecstasy of overload.

The rest of the night cycle spent nestled side by side, whispering their most private dreams and deepest fears. Swearing an oath to never stray too far from each other, friends first and berth mates second, allied by their affection and trust. Megatron vowing to not leave him behind nor forgotten.

Orion looks away. Too embarrassed to meet the mech’s searching gaze.

“You’re the only thing that I have that is truly mine,” Megatron embraces his berth mate. Tugging the exhausted mech to lie against and soak up his warmth, the night cycle frigid, the dockworker shivering from the lack of funds needed to pay for heating his apartment unit, “I don’t want to lose this feeling.”

“Then don’t leave me for too long.” Orion sits up, straddling the reclining miner, “Otherwise I’ll grow bored and chat up some stranger in the bar.”

His comment draws a low growl of displeasure, arms tightening around his waist. Sharing laughter with his berth mate as he descends to drop a chaste kiss upon the miner’s forehead, “I don’t have many friends. Certainly none of them are like you.” Orion lays his helm on the silver chassis, “Don’t change, okay, Megatron? Just stay this way…”

“…Yes.” Orion admits, voice whisper-soft, “I remember…”

Sending Megatron off to Mining Outpost C-12 with an embrace that spoke of their fierce, if short, companionship. Only sharing one lingering kiss, Orion wrapping his arms around the taller miner’s neck. Making his own oath…to never forget his promise to wait for miner’s return…

The stellar cycles that pass without a single communication…Orion fearing the worst. Dreading that his friend had being injured, crushed or trapped within the mines.

Fearing that the miner had realized that the dockworker was hardly worth wasting his time or his friendship.

Soon the pain begin to slowly creep away, leaving behind the sour tinge of regret and gradual acceptance that he would probably never see the miner again…

Megatron clasps Orion’s hand, holding it tightly against his chassis. “Come with me.” The large miner pulls the dockworker to rise to his pedes, “Back to Kaon. I can’t stand the thought of you here is this accursed hole…rotting away to serve the elitists that leech profit and energon by breaking our backstruts and leaving us to rot and scrounge through the remaining dregs of their comprised avarice.”

“Kaon!” Orion has heard plenty of the rumors about the city, “Kaon is known to be the worst place on Cybertron! The riots! The criminal rate alone! How could we possibly survive there?”

“We wouldn’t need for anything.” Megatron coaxes, beseeching his companion to listen to his wisdom, “The gladiator matches have provided me more than enough funds to get us both out of this city.”

“Y-you…the gladiator matches…but it’s illegal¯Megatron! Primus, what have you done! What’s happened to you! You abhor violence¯”

“You have no idea what they did to me!” Megatron’s roar sends Orion scuttling back, but he is held fast by the gladiator’s firm grip that refuses to relent and release his wrist, “You weren’t there! What they did…on C-12…they attacked us…they were going to put us down like rabid dogs! I reacted…I tore them apart with my own hands. My optics are seeing clearly for the first time, Orion.” He yanked the dockworker in tighter, pulling the struggling mech against him, “Cybertron has forgotten us. We’re worse than trash in the eyes of the selected few. And we will no longer accept the scraps that are tossed to us. We will take what is ours, under the guild of one badge, under the leadership of one Commander.”

“Don’t do this..” Orion digs his pedes, but he stumbles as he is yanked after his old friend. Feebly twisting his wrist, but he remains leashed by the mech’s grip. Staggering under the awkward angle and black-painted fingered cuffs, he pleads, “If you truly care about me, then you won’t do this!”

“I came here with one specific purpose.” Megatron leaves the apartment unit, not bothering to shut the door as he drags his reluctant companion with him, “I’ll be damned if I leave without you. I swore that we would get out of this miserable city together.”

“I didn’t think you would mean to start a civil war!”

“War?” Orion shuddered at the cruel twist in expression on the gladiator’s face, the dockworker never before witnessing such a guise those silver dermal plating, “You’re thinking small, Orion. I don’t plan to stop merely with Kaon. I plan to take Cybertron itself.”

M is for Monster
(2007 Universe)

Megatron snarls, kicking at the jigsaw of remains, desecrating the torn and bleeding pieces of the assassin that had been paid handsomely to attack and offline his brother.

“Orion!” The Lord High Protector whips his head around, desperately seeking the mech.

A weak whimper of static catches his audios.

Turning around in a one hundred and eighty, Megatron spies Orion huddled against the sturdy legs of his desk, trembling and covering his helm. Glass shards and curled metal artwork litter the ground around his curled legs, the windowpane destroyed when the assassin had swung through the ornate skylight.

“Don’t be afraid…” Megatron’s forcefully softens his words and tone even though he wishes to roar his fury up towards the star-lit sky that pricks the open skylight, the Lord High Protector’s sole purpose for the moment focused on trying to ease his brother’s soft cries, kneeling in front of the petrified mech, “He will not lay a hand upon you, my brother.”

To his immense shock, when he reaches forward to caress and sooth Orion, the mech stiffens and jerks away, twisting into a fetal position against the sturdy desk. An aggrieved static warble filtering from his vocals, the wail twisting and tearing at Megatron’s Spark. When he tries to reach for Orion again, the mech shreds open the palms of his hands upon the scattered broken shards of glass in his haste to crawl backwards and away from the Lord High Protector.

Blue optics do not look upon him with trust and joy. Instead, Orion cringes away from the energon-soaked claws, strips of metal skin clinging to his brother’s wrists.

For the first time in their million of stellar cycles as brothers, Orion stares at his Lord High Protector as if looking upon Unicron incarnate.

S is for Sparkling
(2007 Universe)

The youngling quirks his finely pointed features, inquisitively peeking at the tiny, whimpering sparkling.

Sentinel Prime cradles the silver and blue protoform carefully within his broad arms, crouching closer to allow the youngling a closer look, “This is your brother, Megatron. Since you are the eldest, it is your responsibility to watch over and care for him.”

The youngling scowls at the assignment of duty laid upon him. The frown trembles and falters, however, when the sparkling, cooing and clicking, reaches forward a tiny hand, delicate fingers wrapping around a curled claw.

Megatron leans in attentively, flexing the trapped appendage. His little brother warbles and trills, nuzzling into Megatron’s hand, causing his elder’s lips to twitch.

Sentinel Prime radiates pride at the positive introduction, content to observe the sparkling and youngling attentively focused upon each other, “I believe you and Orion will get along together very well.” He murmurs gently as Megatron softly clicks back at his tiny brother.

V is for Victory
(G1 Universe)

“There must be some sort of mistake…”

“There is none.” The elders encircle the podium from their raised seats. Ivory optics scanning the young red and blue mech, their solemn gazes apparent in their conviction, “You must accept the mantle. Accept your destiny…your duty…as Prime.”

Orion stutters and tries to steer the elders to listen to reason, “B-but I’m a dock worker! How could I possibly be worthy of such a title?”

“It is not for you to question.” The elders beckon to the tall pedestal, the Matrix aglow, pulsing liking a miniature star. Orion turns his optics away, the light too harsh to look directly upon, “The Matrix chose you. You must embrace it.”

Another voices cause the elders to stir in unease. “I must disagree.”

“You.” The elders shudder forth a gasp. Megatron…Megatron appearing like a phantom, looping an arm around the dockworker’s throat. Orion gasping in fright, hands clinging to the thick forearm, “How did you get in here?!” The elders demand, alternating to call out, “Guards! Guards!!”

“Spare your cowardly bleating.” Megatron steps back, dragging his prisoner away from the Matrix and the ring of high-ranking council. He lifts his right arm, a glimmering sphere glowing from the depths of the barrel of his fusion cannon as he aims at the surrounding assembled mechs, “Your guards are dead. You are the last that stand before me.”

The blast spears the elders with a succession of one, two, and three blasts. Megatron swinging the ripping tide of firepower along the high seats, scorched limbs and the ash of incarnated components speckling to dust the floor around the podium and pedestal.

“Aa…aahh…” Orion cannot comprehend the sight before him, numb as the elders are reduced to a flickering remain of ash and cinders before his very optics.

“So…” Megatron rakes a scrutinizing look over the glowing Matrix, “This is the Autobots’ secret weapon. This trinket…” He tightens the arm around Orion’s throat, “and you.”
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Title: MegatronxOptimus Prime(Orion Pax) Drabbles