The worst part about Orion’s betrayal was that Megatronus hadn’t expected it.

Oh, there were warning signs, of course—signs he’d willingly blinded himself to. He saw how reluctant Orion was to take action into his own hands and had ignored it, certain that his hesitation would diminish with time. Megatronus hadn’t seen Orion’s proposals for reform as they truly were: stagnation under the guise of progress. Idealistic philosophizing with no desire to act upon them; a coward’s way to claim allyship while in reality making no effort to put such lofty morals into practice.

But Megatronus had believed in Orion. Flattered by his praise, attracted by his intellect, Megatronus convinced himself his friend was different, certain his trust wasn’t misplaced. […]

Orion always acted as a counterbalance to Megatronus, tempering the flames of his anger so it was a sustained heat instead of a raging inferno threatening to consume all it touched. He helped channel it into something productive, like a blacksmith forging steel.

But this time, it wasn’t enough. [...]

Convincing Orion to train with him took time.

It was an undisputed fact that Kaon was a dangerous city; the Pits even more so. Its reputation was so bad, mechs often joked that violence was their most popular method of self-expression (in which case, it could be said that Kaonites were an extremely expressive bunch). The intimidating heavily-armored design many sported weren’t fashion statements as much as they were means of protection. Few made an effort to keep up appearances; polish and paint were too extravagant a luxury for mechs who barely earned enough shanix to afford energon. Worn grey plating where scars hadn’t completely healed over only gave them an even rougher appearance. Many bore these marks proudly, considering them symbols of survival and strength, defiance in the face of an unforgiving indifferent world.

Compared to them, Orion was laughably unimposing—and that was without factoring in his personality. [...]