Chapter Text
PROLOGUE: PART ONE
Before the Great War….
This was not Iacon; this was much worse.
Two low-lives for mechs drove a poor femme further along a pitted road. A pitted road stuck with metal plates sharply protruding up. A road lined with broken fences and signs warning to turn back. Signs claiming it’s better to wander and die than live here. Signs begging for the need of shipments for fresh energon.
The entrance of Kaon.
The pair pushed her around the various obstacles and barricades. Laughing at her stumbling. Jeering about her arrival into the Pit.
Kryschina’s crystal blue optics had been round since they first grabbed her. They widened further ever since she stepped pede into a place normally saved for scaring sparklings into good behavior. She grunted when they shoved her again, the restraining chains around her wrists and ankles clanking in response.
She should have listened to the others. Should have never wandered outside her precious city-state. But her curious naivety had gotten the best of her logic. Gotten the best of what she had been told her entire existence.
One of the ruffians planted a well-placed kick in the small of her spinal strut. Sneered.
Crying out, she crashed to the ground. A piece of the metal street gouged her fascia. Cool energon slowly seeped out. Blinking away coolant, she brushed her tapering digits against the faceplate. Stared at the bright blue liquid.
The second botnapper--the dark blue one--laughed. “First time you’ve had your energon spilled, isn’t it, princess? What do you think now, up-worldan?”
Kryschina blinked again. “What...I-I don’t know what to think. I have nothing to offer you.”
The first one yanked her to her pedes by the chains. Held her close to his slate gray chassis. Whispered directly into her audio receptors. “There is plenty you have to offer. It’s not every day we get femmes down here. The higher castes covet your kind for themselves.”
Her Spark pulsated harder. No mech would ever touch her this way in Iacon. At least, not so publicly. Was this form of behavior allowed here? And if they allowed this, what else did they consider normal etiquette?
His grip changed, jerking her closer. “I really like your white paint. The way it shimmers pink in the light. It’s so,” his servo slid down her slender waist, “fetching.”
The second mech shifted uneasily. His unmaintained joints grinding in the process. His optics flitted over the scum crawling out of the metalworks. “Come on. We should return to Clench before he rips us apart and throws us in one of the smelters for being late.”
The initial thug glanced at his partner. “You make a point.” He held the femme against him a nanoklik longer before throwing her forward. “Move.”
Kryschina complied, her Spark pounding against her chest plate. Her internal temperature rising with concern, rising with fear. Would anybot notice she’d been taken? What would become of her? What occupied the time of the lower castes? She didn’t know what they did down here.
Well. There were rumors….
None of which she knew well enough to recall in this very strenuous time.
Kaon was easily three times the size of Iacon, but it didn’t hold any cheer. There was nothing happy about this place. The lower city-state lived in darkness, cloudiness, rawness. Refreshing whites and blues could not be found here. Blacks and oranges flooded everything. Black from the incessant smog. Orange from the numerous raging fires fueling continuously melted metal.
Deeper into Kaon only revealed just how cramped the city-state had become. They had built buildings on top of buildings on top of structures. The streets narrowed into mere alleys. The population grew denser. Factories and manufacturing plants poured billowing smoke as miners fed material into the beasts of smelters.
Kryschina involuntarily placed a servo over her midsection, the more intense smell of burning metal weakening her manifolds. She checked the mechs on either side of her. Neither of them appeared affected by the stench.
The lower caste members who flooded the streets stopped to watch the pretty, flawless femme parading by. They whistled, cat-called, said all kinds of inappropriate remarks.
She focused on the road the best she could. Especially with the jagged nature of it. But her optics wandered up anyway. She couldn’t stop her gasp at these bots’ condition.
None of them boasted brilliantly colored paint. Unless they were of a newer generation, they missed limbs, armor, optics. Dried energon and petrolex caked them.
The femme released an exclamation, startled by a crazed mech planting himself in front of her.
The bot’s sole optic dangled from its socket. Three of his four arms had been ripped off. Only the lower right remained attached as he desperately grabbed at the white foreigner. His vocal processor snapped and cracked. “Y-you have...f-f-fresssh energon.”
The dark blue captor smashed him off to the side with a large hammer. “Back it up, Blackguard. This one is for the Pits. I suggest you remember the last time you clashed against Clench. He won’t be merciful a second time.” Letting the hammer fall, he dragged it behind him as he led the trio. Sparks flying in every direction due to the friction. He dared anybot else to approach.
Kryschina kept her helm lowered. Stayed her crystal blue optics on the street. She had no desire to view any more of Kaon or its inhabitants. Not because they repulsed her. Because they saddened her. She was told all of Cybertron resembled Iacon. It broke her Spark to know it wasn't true. Broke her Spark to know of the conditions these bots lived in.
The botnappers shoved her into an alley labeled “The Pits” in flickering neon, with an arrow pointing down. Thus, down they went. Down below the ground level of Kaon.
She stumbled a couple steps, tripping on the chains, clutching the slimy wall for support. A shallow vent steadied her still-queasy manifolds. And she did her best not to tumble down what seemed to be an endless staircase. She glanced behind her.
A giant door ground into place. Sealing away all outside light.
Her optics adjusted to the dim atmosphere. Provided their own soft glow. Vertical lines of white-hot metal bordered each section of wall. The heat berated her, and she stayed as close to the center of the tunnel as possible.
The pair of Clench’s scouts kept her moving.
Vibrations coursed through her systems. Every forced step brought her closer to deactivation. She may have once convinced herself she wasn’t afraid of going offline, but how she joined the AllSpark suddenly petrified her.
The trio reached the end of the crumbling staircase. Hung a right. A pair of doors slid open, revealing a massive chamber filled with holding cells and restraints.
Kryschina’s optics widened once more as she surveyed the sights of the room.
Here resided the lowest members of Cybertronian classes. Even more mangled than the ones above. Some sat on the floor. Others stood. The rest were kept in cages. Many did their best holding their circuitry inside themselves. Regardless of their condition, all helms swiveled toward the femme. These bots didn’t stare with lust or greed. They stared with knowing. And sorrow.
“Comin’ through!” a brute yelled, waving an arm. He and another rolled in a circuit slab directly alongside the newcomer.
The wheeled platform carried the remains of what appeared to be a reasonably-sized mech. Half an arm stuck above the pile of destroyed body parts, twitching uncontrollably.
She snapped her helm away when she caught a glimpse of half a Spark. A servo covering her mouth plates as she fought the urge to purge her systems. By Primus, why did she have to accept that commission outside the safety of Iacon?
Murmurs filtered among the prisoners.
“He had a good shot.”
“Are you kidding? Megatronus is undefeated.”
Several agreements.
“I heard he gives parts to the crowd.”
“Well, I heard he gives them the energon of his victims.”
“No bot survives a single round with Megatronus.”
One of the miners sprang up from his place on the floor and bolted for the exit. “I’m not going in! They can’t send me in!” He pounded on the doors leading to the stairs. “Primus, save me.”
A large, four-armed mech emerged from the same place as the cart. Ducking through the doorway he barely fit through. “Primus save you, indeed.” All shrunk away as he strode by. He headed straight for the helpless bot. Speared a servo through the chest plate and ripped out the Spark.
Silence fell as the chassis crumpled.
The glossy black behemoth turned around, tossing the Spark aside. “Fresh energon, mechs.” He ignored the mass scramble of those not in chains. Approached the trio. “Femme bot goes in next.”
The two handlers backed away. “Yes, Ringmaster.” They knew the pecking order. Their authority began with the four-armed bot.
Kryschina’s Spark pulsed harder than it ever had before as Ringmaster grabbed her by the neck cabling and dragged her along.
The pristine mech motioned at a bot stationed by the arena door. “Inform the crowd of Megatronus’s new opponent. Clench and I are about to make huge profits.” He leaned next to her audials. The most devious tone lining his voice. “Never had a femme bot before.”
Her optics closed. How did she go from living a nice, quiet life to this repulsiveness? She couldn’t wipe the image of the eager bots consuming each other’s energon from her processor. Did life have no meaning here? No value? Was civilization all for naught?
Attempting to steady herself, her optics reopened. Though, it didn’t matter. This short corridor possessed even less illumination than the first. She thought she heard a distant roar. A shower of sparks raining from the ceiling made her jump.
Ringmaster laughed. “You have no idea how rich you’re about to make us.”
The roar formed into an unclear chant.
Every piece of her vibrated with unbridled fear. It threatened to shut her down. She wished her Spark would just give out now. By all the Primes, what had she done to deserve this?
The door before them retracted upwards.
Kryschina shielded her optics from the piercing light flooding the tunnel. She staggered unwillingly into a large ring. Still at Ringmaster’s lack of mercy.
Thousands of the lowest caste were on their feet. Their deafening clamor now clear. “Meg-a-tron-us! Meg-a-tron-us! Meg-a-tron-us!”
Her visual receptors immediately locked onto the pile of rusting bodies in the center of the arena. Fluids of all kinds perpetually dripped down the mound. She slowly scanned up the pedestal of dismemberment.
On the very top, a proud gladiator stood, holding high the helm of his previous opponent.
Her joints couldn’t support her weight any longer. She fell onto the spoiled ground of the ring. This was the end. This was how she returned to the AllSpark. A brutal deactivation for their entertainment and riches.
Then, she froze.
The undefeated champion turned his piercing red gaze upon her.