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Death and Taxes

The Thirteenth is death, he is its herald and its warden. He is a divine being greater than any mortal with a purpose so specific that no other could fulfill it. He only took on a mortal frame for the sake of searching for a potential living Prime to set things straight. He was not at all prepared for the mess that is being a mortal.

In light of his oddities, mecha who work in customer service across Kaon both fear and adore him.

Previous part here.

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Death, or rather Orion Pax, was not unfamiliar with mortal customs. He had seen enough in his long eternities within the void to have a basic understanding of how mortals worked. Combined with Alpha Trion and Ratchet's dutiful teachings, things made even more sense for him. But of course, there are simply some things one must experience to really comprehend. One of those things was bureaucracy and domestic affairs.

While serving under Alpha Trion, Orion had no need to bother with things such as buying his own energon, dealing with housing, or otherwise interacting with mecha aside from Ratchet on a regular basis. Alpha Trion took care of anything that required serious interaction and the Archives were always stocked with enough to get by. When not wandering the void, Orion resided with datapads in a small dark corner with a singular pillow and that was all he needed. There was no interaction and no bothersome affairs. If he needed something, it was provided.

That all changed when he finally found someone worthy of the Matrix.

Megatronus was most certainly worthy, but he resided all the way in Kaon. That was initially not an issue for Orion since he would leave for extended periods of time anyway and return to the archives as needed to collect data or otherwise restock on supplies. However after he began to bend the rules a little too much in the optics of his fellow Primes, he had to become more... conservative with how he used his abilities. No longer could he travel between the archives and Kaon every half a groon to get something or other. Now his trips needed to be with purpose and taken with greater care. Not to mention he could not longer leech off Alpha Trion on a regular basis, not when he spent much of his time so far from archives.

The issue was small at first for Orion as he brought a stock of energon and shanix with him down to Kaon in order to get by. He hung around in the pits largely loitering in corners when he wasn't conversing with his chosen Champion. However that quickly grew to be highly suspicious as other gladiators glared and those in charge of the pits started to take notice of him. Megatronus even reached out in concern, wondering if he was alright and if he needed somewhere to recharge. It was at that point that Orion realized he needed to get a proper base of operations down in Kaon if he was to continue operating and going back to the archives in a timely manner. He wasn't supposed to be drawing any serious attention.

And so after contacting Ratchet, Orion went hab hunting. According to what he read in the archives and online, it should have been an easy task. He had the required rank to get a reasonable residence, and Ratchet dealt with all the actual talking, yet Orion found himself struggling to find a place he actually liked.

Ratchet: What about this one? It has a sizable living space and a nice patio.

Orion: No, it is too bright for the void that I am fond of to pierce the veil of this reality.

Ratchet: That's fair enough. I like it a bit darker too. How about this one then? Its a bit quaint but its less bright.

Orion: The sounds from the railway will drown out the calls of the lost. My duty will be left unfulfilled. It is insufficient.

Ratchet: Alright, I understand. Then this one seems better, right? Its quiet, away from the most obnoxious lights, and is within a compound for Iaconian citizens.

Orion: My spark will weaken surrounded by those who serve the corrupt. Their sins will weigh heavy on my mind.

Ratchet: Well then what do YOU have in mind?

Orion: This one is far from the obstructions of mortal make. I will be able to see through the veil without difficulty and none shall break me from my reverie.

Ratchet: ...

Orion: ...

Ratchet: Its on the outskirts of Kaon. That's bad territory Orion. Gangs and all sorts of other unsavory types tend to live out in the boondocks.

Orion: They shall not touch me. I shall ensure it.

Ratchet: ... I believe you.

Eventually, against Ratchet's warnings and Alpha Trion's questioning, Orion moved to the outskirts of Kaon with his singular box of belongings. His hab was in the most seedy part of Kaon that was still within walking distance of the arenas. Ratchet was not at all pleased, especially once he noticed the shady individuals who lived in the area. Of course Ratchet was far less concerned for his friend and more worried about those who would be interacting with him. But Orion was totally unconcerned as he marched right into his hab without greeting anyone, put down his singular box of things, and set up a desk by the window so that he could work for the archives from a distance.

Ratchet was left to become more and more concerned as Orion proceeded to put his small collection of datapads on his desk and sit down, the rest of his hab completely empty. It took quite a while for the medic to explain to Orion that he needed to have something decorative in his hab to not be seen as unusual. And thus within the next few cycles, a small gathering was hosted at Orion's new residence where a few associates gave him things to decorate his hab with and offered to help him set it up. Ratchet ended up giving Orion a small blaster and assisting him in painting every single wall various shades of black, blue, and purple, all in dark varieties. Megatronus dropped by for a little while with a set of officers at his sides to ensure he didn't run off and he then proceeded to pass Orion a bottle of high grade before leaving. Soundwave also made an appearance before leaving, but it was a quick in and out situation where he handed Orion some Shanix with a card attached that said to buy what he wanted.

That was Orion's house warming party of a sorts, and so after a rundown of how normal mecha function from Ratchet, Orion was left to his own devices. It did not take long at all for him to garner a reputation. Most of his cycles consisted of spending the early groons doing work for the archives, namely handling files from a distance and digitizing texts from nearby and far smaller archives. Afterwards he would proceed straight to the arena to speak with Megatronus in an attempt to not bend the rules and possibly be left with a greater punishment. This alone was fine. It was when he deviated from his normal routine that his reputation formed and was reiterated.

Orion did not generally need to consume energon. In fact it was more unsettling when he did consume it due to how half of it bled out from his plating throughout the course of the cycle. Despite that, Ratchet told Orion again and again that normal mecha consumed some energon and kept a stock of it. Thus Orion was forced to go to the store and buy some semi-regularly. The first time he did so at the local store, he stared the cashier down in total silence until his groceries were scanned and he paid. The cashier was scared stiff but ultimately waved it off, thinking Orion a one time costumer. The cashier was wrong.

Once a deca-cycle on the dot, Orion would return to the store to buy the exact same thing, over and over again. Not a word would be exchanged, but Orion had a tendency to overpay and not a spark was willing to try and give him his change with how... cold he was. He came in, bought his energon, and left without a word. What was at first unsettling came to be appreciated by the mecha working at the store. When Orion came in, other less civil customers left and Orion would stroll along the aisles without comment. It was a break for the overworked employees and his abundant overpaying was a welcome reward for their efforts. It reached the point of becoming a ritual of sorts, one where Orion came by on one appointed cycle once a deca-cycle. All employees would fall silent and relax as Orion would spent exactly half a groon wandering and taking his time observing before buying the same thing he always did. Then he would quietly ring up his items and the employees would have a silent battle over who got to be the one to serve him. The winner promptly assisted him and in return received the extra Shanix that came from Orion's overpaying habit.

The employees did not ever dare comment on the fact that Orion looked like he crawled out of some pit and simply never returned. New employees were all trained in the delicate art of being respectful of the favored customer from Iacon and not a spark dared to interrupt his routine. The singular mech who tried to ask Orion if he needed help received a frigid gaze and a quiet but terrifying answer.

Employee: Sir, can I help you? You seem to be a little lost.

Employee 2: NO! You idiot! Leave Mr. Pax alone!

Orion: I require no aid from that which will wither and die. The offer is quaint and appreciated, but useless.

Employee: Y-Yes Sir. Please continue what you were doing.

Employee 2: You glitch, you've ruined his routine.

Nothing particularly bad happened when Orion's routine was messed with, but there was always an aura of potential danger when it was. Not to mention he tended to not leave extra Shanix behind when he paid. The employees were totally unaware of the fact that their interactions with him merely made him more prone to focus and thus actually count out the correct amount of shanix to be given for his purchases. But of course they didn't know that and simply assumed he was an oddball who liked the quiet and paid generously to have it while shopping.

Orion's reputation at the store was unique, but it did not reach the legendary reputation he held amongst the neighborhood he moved into. Much like with his purchases of energon, Orion did not tend to do anything out of his hab very often. But there were instances where it was required, and from those experiences, Orion learned and was rewarded with wary gazes for it.

Once a stellar cycle Orion was required to take his trash out to the incinerators since he had not paid for any sort of garbage disposal services. This was not a hard task for a mech who produced little waste and who had strength that exceeded the normal bounds of mortality. But of course initially his newfound neighbors found themselves eager to scout him out and see if he was a viable target. Gang members were sent to watch him and talk to him if possible to assess the danger he posed. All returned to their organization with the same consensus.

Orion Pax was not to be touched.

The first few times he was observed, the information gleaned told his observers that he was a scrappy but well funded mech. A difficult target, but not impossible considering he lived alone and was an archivist. This led to his hab being broken into a handful of times before any sort of confrontation. Only instead of finding swaths of shanix or useful material, what greeted the invaders was a space straight out of a horror film. Orion's hab was pitch black, with all sorts of anatomy notes, drawings, and prints covering the walls like some sociopathic killer lived in the space. His space was frigid at all times and his few shelves were filled with datapads and each were labeled with the name of some important mech up on the political ladder. His ceiling was covered with strange murals that were hardly able to be processed but showed images of things not meant for mortals to see. And to top it all off, the further one went into his hab, the more empty it became. Only his living room had furniture in it. Every other room was bare save for his berth which was a single slab of metal and stacks of energon cubes all around. It was terrifying, especially when the invaders noted the many various drawings of mecha and the weapons laying around.

The singular time one of the local gang members tried to bother Orion and shank him for some cash, it ended horribly. Orion turned toward his would-be-attacker and proceeded to shift before his very optics. Wings made of blades sprouted from his back, optics formed where there shouldn't be any, and his limbs grew longer, sharper, and unnaturally spindly. The air chilled but Orion did not move. This was the story told by the one who claimed to have tried to rob Orion, and despite not having any additional witnesses, not a spark dared to claim it was lies. Orion was a cryptid and it would not surprise any of the local gang members if he really was a monster from the pits or a shapeshifter enjoying screwing with them.

He was in their minds, an aspiring serial killer. Thus his danger level skyrocketed and rumors spread of the strange rich mech who lived in the hab a short walk away from the store. What frightened Orion's observers even more was the simple fact that his lights were never on, not once did he turn them on. That only served to emphasize his terrifying optics and partially exposed spark chamber whenever he at by the window late at night, watching, staring, never moving. They thought he was vetting out potential targets, totally unaware of the fact that Orion was merely trying to learn to be more normal. In light of this, he took in the fearful and aggressive behavior of his peers and thought that was the correct manner in which to act. He prowled around as they did when near his hab or travelling through Kaon, his field was always held like a shield, and he stared down anyone who dared come too close. He held no anger toward anyone, but he was almost certain what he was doing was normal.

It was not, and his habit of picking up behaviors only gave him an even more startling reputation when he observed a drug deal happening from his window. Orion did not order things too often, but when he did he paid the delivery mech and went on his way. But as he watched the drug deal go down, unaware of its nature, he saw how it worked and mimicked the behavior. Those involved in the deal gave copious amounts of shanix or interesting objects to one another in exchange for the offered goods. Not knowing any better, Orion was quick to pick up the habit when he ordered things.

His orders only came a few times a stellar cycle, but when they did, delivery mecha all across Kaon rushed to answer the call. To them, Orion Pax was both the most terrifying mech on the planet, and also the best paying one. Much like the employees at the store, they uttered not a word when they came with his packages, but each bore their determination and prayed to Primus as the door unlocked and the terror within accepted the package. It was a ritual, or rather a rite of passage for delivery mecha. Those who could withstand the terror Orion posed were truly devoted to their craft, especially since they had to maintain a straight face. It was the ultimate test of will, and it was one even veteran delivery mecha who were accustomed to gang wars and drug deals struggled to withstand.

Orion never hurt any of them, but he learned from what he saw, and based on what he saw, he needed to show his aggression to a degree when receiving anything and be as suspicious as possible. Thus when delivery mecha arrived at his door, he held the door open just wide enough to stick out an arm and that was it. His field was constantly held at an uncomfortable wavelength and he stared down whoever was outside his door in total silence. The ritual was simple for delivery mecha with enough skill and will to withstand the fear. They would knock three times, one after the other before stepping back to a comfortable distance. They would keep their gazes low and wait for the click of the door and the chill of frigid air to touch their plating through the crack in Orion's door. At that point they would offer the package and papers for Orion to sign and the door would close for exactly a klik. If the delivery mech didn't pass out, they would swiftly be returned signed papers and anything from straight shanix to objects of increadible value before the door would shut, the ritual complete.

Mech-animals avoided Orion's hab like the plague, neighbors feared him and never met his gaze, those who worked at placed he frequented both loved and were terrified of him, and amongst mail mecha he was a cryptid of untold power. None bothered him, none questioned him. They simply watched him go from his hab to the arena, all wondering what he was. He was the rich archivist from Iacon and that was all that needed to be said. Despite that, there were still rumors, none of which ever reached Orion's audials despite his ability to walk the void.

The most prolific rumors were popular enough to reach Megatronus and Ratchet, both of which nearly died of laughter upon hearing them. Evidently Orion was either a cryptid who served the Unmaker, a rogue experiment, a ghoul, a sparkeater, or most hilariously, a servant of the council come to put fear into the sparks of the locals. Neither Ratchet nor Megatronus ever saw fit to tell their odd companion of the fearful reputation he garnered. It was more hilarious watching him roll with it without even knowing he was playing into the stories weaved about him

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #orion pax #megatronus #ratchet #death's embrace au #cosmic horror lives in your neighborhood #what to do what to do #the answer for Kaoni mecha?#Leave it alone #the thirteenth prime #shenanigans #yup #there is an ancient old one living across the road #but dont worry about him #if you dont look at him he wont kill you #praise be to the delivery mecha who put their lives on the line to receive his blessing

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