The arena was everything Orion had thought (and feared) it might be, at least in first outward appearances. The arena itself was ancient, in a rather distressing area of the city, and far from being in the best of repair. Orion was distinctly smaller and far less armored than the majority of the attendees, and the guard who scanned his chit for admittance seemed darkly amused.

The thunderous applause was the first thing he could hear, even from a distance, reverberating through the ground and up his legs. He wasn't sure if they were only running Megatronus' 'special', more artistic sort of shows today or not, but even then the stench of old energon and various spilt bodily fluids was immediately noticeable, even if the sources were not obvious.

The crowds in both the line and in the stands were...not the most reputable sort. Though Orion did not wish to judge solely on looks, the sort of looks he was getting proved he was being judged even more readily. He straightened his spinal struts, flared his field, and pressed on without acknowledging them. It probably made him look like a stuck-up, priss-mech, but it had always served him well when passing through less protected areas before. Thankfully, the looks (and testing shoves) faded the closer Orion got to his seat; he was pleasantly surprised to find the area in a noticeably better area, with better lighting and a far better view of the arena floor.

The other spectators seated in the same zone gave Orion some odd looks as well, but for now they refrained from commenting. The librarian vented a sigh and privately hoped he wouldn't have to sit through any actual arena fights before Megatron's display was scheduled.