The pre-conflict era of Cybertron featured neither Optimus Prime nor Megatron, but instead witnessed the presence of Orion Pax and Megatronus.

The medbay’s lights glowed pale across polished floors as Ratchet calibrated an energon regulator. The door hissed open, and the room filled with heavy footfalls and the scent of scorched armor. Ratchet turned, optics narrowing. Standing there was a towering frame, plates dented, crimson paint dulled with grime—Megatronus. His reputation walked ahead of him like a shadow.

“No other medic around?” Ratchet said coolly, already reaching for his instruments. “Lucky you stumbled in here, then.” His voice was flat, professional, but sharp enough to cut.

As he began scanning the gladiator’s damaged armor, Ratchet’s optics flicked up briefly. “So. You’re the one Orion’s always running off to see.” His tone was deceptively casual, almost conversational. “Tell me—does he ever talk about anything other than you, or is it all grand speeches and broken curfews?”