#bosswrites

Had he actually been paying attention then maybe he would have avoided the massive wall of silver that had unknowingly stepped in his path, and perhaps he would have been put down a completely different path—the path that he knows was already laid out before him.

Instead, as he found himself sitting on his aft and staring up at the mech he wound up crashing into, Orion couldn’t help the sense of unease that went through him as the miner turned to gaze down at him with bright red optics and a frown that appeared to be permanently marred on his faceplates.

If he didn’t feel small before, he felt downright diminutive from the way the miner stared at him. 

It reminded him of the times when he would read about the Age of Expansion that came after Nova Magnus was deposed, of the level of destructive potential held within the Warframes that fought in those very wars. It amazed him how they have chosen to work in the mines, but he also figured any bot would be weary of war after non-stop fighting for millions of stellar cycles.

The large silver Warframe continued to stare down at him with those bright red optics, almost as if he was trying to get a look into Orion’s spark, before he briefly reached a servo out to Orion.

“D-16, we need to make haste,” a different Warframe called out, one who had red accents and tank treads.

As if pulled from whatever had invaded his programming, the silver Warframe turned away from Orion and quickly moved to follow the older mech where they both went into one of the many large nondescript buildings that were bunched up within the sprawling city.

For a moment he remained sitting there, processing just what happened as the streets started to finally empty out and he was left alone in the massive city.

Feeling even smaller than before, he quickly brought himself back up to his peds and prepared to continue on towards his destination; that was until the tip of his ped connected with a lone datapad that lay on the ground in front of him.

“Hear me! Open your optics and lend me your audials!”

He pointedly ignored Ultra’s groan as he instead listened to the speech.

Something about the way the champion spoke called to him, as if demanding his full attention.

So why shouldn’t he lend an audial to the champion’s words?

“For millions of stellar cycles we have all been trapped under a machine that continues to crush us, a machine that is designed to make the many suffer for the profit of the few! Well I say we put an end to this!”

Briefly, Orion’s optics looked down at the datapad he had in his servos where *An Ode to Primus* was pulled up. It was the way the champion spoke that made him think about the lone Ode written by the miner…and that’s when it clicked for him.

(Meanwhile, for the champion, the next part of his speech was more improvised. At that moment, when he stood victoriously over Onslaught, he no longer felt like the ex-miner D-16—nor did he feel like a champion fighting for the entertainment of an audience who doesn’t see him as anything more. Instead, he felt like-)

“I am Megatron, and I urge all of you to take my words to spark. Do not let them crush you under their supposed Great Autobot Machine! We are not mere cogs! We-”

Much to Orion’s disappointment mixed with horror, a set of cuffs that were attached to the champion’s, to Megatron’s, servos were activated. The gladiator was silenced and brought to his knees as silent guards stepped forth to drag him out.

As he watched the scene before him, his spark thrumming with a mix of emotions that he could not quite put a label on other than empathy, he returned the datapad to his subspace and shook his head. “They should have let him speak.”

He realized for a brief moment that he forgot Ultra was sitting right next to him, for when he spoke all he got in response was a scoff and some scathing words that burned his audials.