"Well, well, well. If it isn't Orion Pax, Megatron's old friend."

Orion turned in the direction of the voice. "Airachnid," he rumbled, his blue optics flaring. "What is it?"

Its owner hung suspended from six tall, metallic legs. She waved a clawed hand to Orion and smiled. The black thorax beneath her torso swung back and forth in a lazy rhythm. Orion stared at it for several moments, mesmerized in spite of himself. Then, with a shudder, he forced himself to focus on her face.

She skittered closer, waving a claw. "I just thought I'd have a look at your new brands." She twisted to look at his shoulder, her purple optics brightening.

Orion tilted one of his shoulders toward her. The insignia adorning it gleamed as it caught the light.

Orion frowned. Why was she so interested in his brands? Every Decepticon had one - or two, if the wearer bore them on his limbs, as Orion did. His were no different from anyone else's.

Except that they were new. Orion's optics narrowed as she moved in again, her pointed face uncomfortably near to his plating.

"Very nice," she purred. "They look quite becoming on you."

Orion straightened up again, studiously ignoring her. She hissed, disappointed, reminding him once again how close she'd come. He cycled air through his intakes but said nothing more, determined not to take the bait.

"I'm sure Lord Megatron is pleased to see them on you," she continued, her purple optics bright.

Orion frowned, confused. What exactly did that mean? "I am pleased to wear them. I have always respected Megatronus - Megatron."

He winced, stumbling over the unfamiliar nickname.

He knew exactly what "Megatronus" had named himself after. His old friend had dredged the name from legend, taking a name that would awe his followers and strike fear into the sparks of his opponents in the deathmatch arena.

Later, in the days of the Revolution, the fearsome name served a similar purpose. It warned the decadent and complacent that their time would soon end in smoke and in reckoning flames.

Orion didn't like the shortened form; he'd been a scholar once, and "Megatronus" had the ring of myth. "Megatron" didn't. The mechs Megatron led had worn down his name, sharpened it, chipped off the history that made it noble.

And yet, even "Megatronus" wasn't just an intimidating name for a pit fighter turned revolutionary. It was the name of a demon. An enemy. The mech who had betrayed the ancient Primes.

Orion shuddered. He'd deemed it a gladiator's flourish back then. A name to strike fear into the big mech's opponents - and to thrill the gawking crowds.

Now, he wondered.

I have always respected Megatron.

It was true, though. He had disagreed many times with Megatron's methods, but never with his aims.

Airachnid's rich voice drew him back from his musings. "Always respected Megatron. Oh really, now?"

"Megatron and I have been comrades for -" his optics flickered - "for - for a long time."

"I see." She grinned, showing fangs. "My mistake."

She reached out a purple-tipped claw. It skirred over the fresh brand, sending pain lancing through Orion's sensornet.

"Leave me be," Orion growled, recoiling from her touch.

Her clawed fingers stilled, but she didn't pull them away. "Oh, I'd really rather not. There's so much you don't know yet, little Orion." She laughed. "Or is that 'don't remember?'"

He transformed one hand, holding up a bright blue blade. "I do not wish to harm you, Airachnid. But if you don't remove your hand from me -"

She slid her hand away and held up her arms in a gesture of surrender. "Fair enough. I wasn't looking for a fight."

She turned, her optics widening. "And it looks like your 'friend' is looking for you, anyway."

Orion frowned. Was she standing down because of his threat, or because Megatron had shown up to protect him? Cycling a sigh, he too turned as Megatron walked toward them.

Both Orion and Megatron had large, broad frames, the results of some long-ago upgrades that Orion could not remember. Orion himself stood almost as tall as his Leader. Like Megatron, he also had thick, sturdy limbs.

But he didn't feel tall, not while looking at Megatron's broad chest and the wickedly sharp lattice of spikes jutting forth from it. And he didn't bear his weapons on his arm like Megatron did. He had to transform his arms to wield them.

And even when he did that, his blades and guns had nothing on the enormous cannon mounted on Megatron's right arm, glowing with deadly lavender energy he could loose at any moment.

Orion cycled air in a choked cough and bowed. He wasn't used to seeing Megatron like this, either. He frowned, racking his processor for any recollection at all of Megatron looking like this. Or of himself, looking like he looked now.

Nothing. He simply couldn't remember, as if the entire datatrack that held those memories had somehow vanished from his processor. His frame shook, and the energon roiled in his tanks. He shifted, trying to pass the moment off as random fidgeting, hoping the Decepticon leader couldn't sense his nausea.

He looked up again to see Airachnid, who couldn't bow in her spider-form, incline her head. "Lord Megatron."

"Airachnid," he growled. He didn't sound pleased to see her.

Orion looked up. "Megatron." Presumptuous as it was to talk to his Leader like an equal, he could not quite bring himself to call the other mech "Lord."

Airachnid tilted her head and pursed her lip plates. "It looks like you two have a lot to catch up on," she said, hastily skittering away.

Orion had heard the rumors. She hadn't thought Megatron was coming back. From - from - from somewhere.

He'd been there, too. Megatron had brought him back with him. And Airachnid was in trouble, for wanting to abandon him. Or was it abandon them both? Damn it, why couldn't he remember?

"I will deal with your disloyalty later," Megatron hissed after her, his voice cold. Orion shuddered. He'd never liked that side of his old friend. But even as a gladiator, Megatronus had killed his enemies. Orion had known better than to expect mercy from him even in the early days of their alliance, and now...

"Orion," Megatron was saying, his tone markedly different from the harsh voice he'd used with Airachnid. "Walk with me a moment, old friend."

Orion nodded, relief suffusing his spark.

"You held your own well just now," Megatron said. His frame rumbled, a contented purring.

"Did I?" Orion shrugged. "I did not wish to fight her."

"And you did not." He grinned, showing fangs. They, at least, did not surprise Orion. Megatron had always had those.

Orion smiled back grimly. "I know. But the other Decepticons would not be so - glad to avoid a fight."

Megatron tilted his head, his fangs still bared and gleaming. "No, they wouldn't. But you were always different from the others, old friend."

"Different..."

"Do you remember anything?" Megatron asked, staring intently at him.

Unnerved by the scrutiny, Orion shook his head. "Nothing. Not even small snatches of conversation, or faces, or voices. I - if I trusted what my processor is telling me, I would believe that we are about to speak before the Council together tomorrow." His optics met Megatron's. "But if I believe what the others say, there is no Council any more. And this certainly isn't Cybertron."

Megatron nodded gravely. "Knock Out tells me the data has been erased, Orion. I have told him in no uncertain terms that he is to devote himself fully to restoring it, but -"

"- but there's nothing to restore. I know."

Megatron's optics glowed, a bright burning red. "Perhaps it is best that you concentrate on the future."

Orion shook his head. "The others know. The others - they mock me. Or challenge me. I don't even know why, Megatron."

Now it was his turn to fix his companion with an icy, azure stare. "And you can't protect me forever."

The crimson optics widened. Then Megatron laughed. "So you knew."

"Of course I knew. Everyone here gets into scrapes with everyone else daily. Blasters seem to be a requirement in every argument." He shook his head. The violence was so - so casual here.

He should have been used to that. He'd seen it way back when he'd first visited Kaon, in the early days of the Revolution. "I think more of us have scorch marks from friendly fire than from Autobots shooting at us. But if anyone says anything to me - you're looming over my shoulder seconds later."

Megatron said nothing. Orion nodded for him. It was as good as a confession anyway.

"I'm not a pet, Megatron. I'm not - I'm not your toy to be coddled."

"No, you most certainly are not," the tyrant answered, chuckling. Orion wondered whether the remark meant more than he supposed. "But you were afraid to handle your own affairs until today."

"I told you, I -"

"- didn't want to fight. I know. And yet you handled yourself like a Decepticon, whether you shot at her or not."

Orion mulled this over and decided that he had. It felt good, a charge of pride zinging through his systems. Perhaps his brands meant something real now. Something more than that Megatron had missed him. Something more than that Megatron was entirely too happy to see him again, for reasons Orion's memory banks had lost.

"I want my memories back," Orion said finally.

Megatron's frame rumbled again, a dark and ominous sound. Orion held firm, raising a hand. "I know that you cannot restore them. I do not ask for that. But I want to know why I left."

With a great creaking of metal, Megatron turned. "Left?"

"You call me 'long-lost comrade.' Airachnid mocks me for my brands. Breakdown tried to attack me when I first arrived. Soundwave watches me when he could easily be watching others who are clearly making plans or making trouble. Why did I leave, Megatron - and where did I go?"

Megatron stared back at him, his rusted mouthplates curving into a cold smile. "You always were intelligent, Orion Pax."

Orion shivered. That look - he'd hoped for longer than he knew that Megatron would never turn it on him. "Answer my question, Lord Megatron."

Megatron's optics narrowed. "Flattery, Orion? I thought you disdained such things."

"I will stand here until you tell me, old friend."

Megatron raised his arm, the cannon adorning it glowing with energy. The air crackled with ozone.

Orion waited.

"I cannot tell you," Megatron said finally.

Orion snorted, his nausea returning. "Then I truly am nothing more to you than a pet. An amusement. A blank slate for you to write on it what you will." He turned away, feet clanking as he began to walk.

"Wait," hissed a voice behind him.

Orion turned.

Megatron had lowered his arm and was regarding him with the same penetrating look he'd noticed before. "I will not deny I have enjoyed playing with your mind, old friend. To pretend otherwise is beneath you. But I mean what I say. I do not tell you because I cannot."

Orion's reply was soft, his voice crackling with static. "Why?"

"Because it would break your spark if you knew," Megatron answered, reaching out to curl a clawed hand over his shoulder. Orion stared at it, wincing slightly as the pointed fingertips touched his new brand.

After a moment, he snorted, trying to shake off Megatron's hand, but the other's grip only tightened. "You care so much about my spark, I'm sure."

Silence answered him, and lengthened. Orion felt the fuel in his tanks roil. He had heard Megatron lie countless times before, and it had always unnerved him. But he'd never - well, he was reasonably sure he'd never - heard Megatron say anything like that before.

Which meant -

"You're telling the truth, aren't you?"

Megatron nodded. "I am."

"Tell me what happened, Megatron. I - I am a Decepticon. Or at least, I am now. By your own codes of conduct, it is not right to hide the truth from me simply to spare me pain. If it is not right to show mercy, Megatron - show none to me."

Megatron chuckled. As before, the sound gave no warmth. "You betrayed us, Orion Pax."

"No -" Orion gasped, his engines stalling.

"Your brands, Orion - think. What was there, on your shoulders, before you took the marks of a Decepticon?"

Orion reeled, his equilibrium sensors suddenly inadequate to the task of enabling him to catch himself. He put a hand to the wall, plating burning with shame at Megatron so obviously seeing him stumble.

That cannot be true, Orion thought, frantically querying his processor for anything that might let him deny Megatron's words. Treachery was for Starscream, clicking his wings and purring his lies. Treachery was for the regime that Megatron and his followers had dedicated their sparks to fighting, promising order and harmony while crushing the low-caste under their heels.

He was Orion Pax. He was no traitor. And if he had been, surely somewhere, somehow, missing memories or not, he would know.

But his memory banks told him nothing. They had nothing to tell. He straightened up, cycling air too shallowly. "I believed in the Revolution -"

"You did. From the beginning."

"Then why -?"

The great, helmeted head shook. "I do not know, Orion Pax."

Orion staggered to his feet. Was that true? Was Megatron - lord of a faction that named itself deceivers - telling the truth again? Or was Megatron doing what he'd already admitted to before, and using Orion's disorientation to forge what he wanted out of him?

I have always respected Megatron.

Megatron and I have been comrades for - for - for a long time.

If that was true, something had happened.

Something that Megatron himself did not understand.

Cycling air raggedly through his intakes, Orion nodded. Once again, he sought his databanks for answers; once again, he found none. Whatever Megatron had hid from him, Knock Out hadn't been lying. His memories were gone.

"I believe you, old friend," he said finally. "I do not know what happened, and I do not know why. I do not know what penance I owe you, and I will not attempt to atone for a sin I cannot remember. But I believe you."

Megatron nodded grimly. "You understand me better than you think you do, old friend. You always did."

Orion winced, nodding back. "I - I should go. I have - much to think about."

"Very well," Megatron answered, removing his hand from Orion's shoulder and turning heavily away.

Orion watched him, wondering exactly when saying I'm sorry had become so difficult. He peered at one of the fresh brands on his shoulder, frowning accusingly at it before turning the other direction and starting the long walk back to his quarters.