「 ORION PAX 」
Orion turned just as Trailstop halted his approach. Primus, it was so nice to hear somebot speaking logic instead of simply throwing insults. It helped to ground him, pulling him back from disassociating from his body. A heavy ex-vent escaped the smaller frame, but he didn’t lower his guard.
The noise of the crowd was blocked from his processor. There was something more important he had to focus on.
“Please, record my words so you have them as proof,… so Megatronus will hold no ill will.” He took a brief moment to let that sink in. “I know Backtread is -not- a true example of a gladiator.” The archivist spoke at the same volume, his words intended only for the large bot before him. “I have been in Kaon enough to know the honor of a true warrior. I see it in you.” Orion had never met Trailstop, only seen him in passing, but his actions now spoke of the kind of warrior he was.
The grip on the axe tightened, pedes widening in stance to prepare for the next attack, but he felt himself shaking beneath his plating. “I am -innocent- of their charges, but know I don’t hold any anger towards you or the others. Just… please grant me a request? Tell Megatronus… I’m sorry. And that the council is… getting worried if they’re accusing a bot like me of treason. All of you, please stay safe.” Megatronus would contact Alpha Trion and Ratchet, let them know what had happened. Even as he faced his own death, he worried about the safety of others. “And… and please help Backtread…. I know he has not acted honorably, but I don’t want one of my last actions in this life to cause the death of another…”
It was hard, but Orion pushed back the emotion that had welled up within him. Coolant had gathered in his optics, but he refused to let it fall. Not there, not in the Pits. If it was someone like Trailstop, he could… accept this. He could die with a little dignity in his spark.
But that didn’t mean he would go down without a fight.
The archivist turned out to avoid the blade and spun the axe to deflect it with the staff end. The momentum of the blade continued and Orion spun the axe up for a potential strike.
Backtread watched from afar, anger curling wickedly in his tank as he glared upon Orion Pax and his partner. He grasped at his splintered joint, sparking and popping discharged volts of electricity from torn wiring, Energon flowing freely and puddling beneath him. Standing in his panic became impossible, crumpled to the floor of the arena as he waited for his internal repairs to stop the tide and redirect the flow of energy to other parts of his frame. He was seething, but still in the fight. His remaining hand shook he moved to flatten it against the ground, clasping at black sand over and over between uncertain digits. He would simply wait. Yes. Trailstop was an effective fighter―he would be fine for now. And then… and then Backtread would strike from behind while Orion was distracted. Yes.
It was just a lucky shot, he told himself. There’s no way that little slagger actually knows how to fight. Megatronus couldn’t have taught him that much.
Shakily, he rose to a stand, stumbling in anxious fervor as he clamored for his discarded weapon―weapon, stick, weapon. His mind was in a flurry, HUD pinging him in different locations in his peripheral on potential blades to use in the distance. Damn the stick. He inched―stumbled and crawled, and stood again―as silently as he could to the scattered weapons that still lay stranded in the sand. He could still find victory in this.
Trailstop, meanwhile, had begrudgingly acquiesced to Orion Pax’s plight if only because he knew that sneaky slagger would be watching. And if Megatronus found out his little friend’s final words were dismissed… Well.
He personally saw no reason for recording the Iaconian’s words. Stay safe, he thought with some bitter resentment. When The High Council and The Guilds breathe down their necks? Right. But he also personally enjoyed staying out from certain mechs’ personal agenda radar, and if doing something as pointless as this would make certain of that, he was all the more for it. At least there was no true effort to be had in a simple recording―he was not expected to care about what the Iaconian said.
But he had to admit some amount of impress with Orion Pax’s quick reaction. He’d seen the other in training with the Champion, but he hadn’t thought a mech of mid caste would actually bother to retain the lessons. He let his blade be deflected, following the change in momentum with ease. Not bothering to dodge the ax, it made a clean strike through the armor of his chassis, and he followed the swing of Orion’s weapon with a swift left hook aimed straight for the side of Orion’s helm.
The blade tearing through his armor burned like hot fire and sparked from the wound, but unlike one of his partners, he knew the pain of battle and had grown used to it. Simply another scar to add to the others.











